Ride to Tolovana Roadhouse: A Misadventure in Reality Warping

Post by Eric

I stood up on my pedals and yelled. 

“Oh, my aching arse!” 

Fortunately, I knew right up the trail was the next section of windblown snowdrifts, where I would have to get off my bike and walk. I could give my numbing hands, aching back, and sore arse a break. But my energy was fading. I was slowing. I needed to get back to Manley Hot Springs Resort by 10pm. I had a cabin rented, but I didn’t have the door key code. What if I couldn’t get into the cabin? I dreaded the thought of a four-hour drive back to Fairbanks after my longer-than-expected day on the bike. 

I rode my bike when I could, but that was sapping my waning energy. I kept stopping to rest. The closer I got to Manley, the more stops I took. I quit looking at the time. It was going to be close. I didn’t need to know how close. I didn’t have any winter camping gear with me. Either I had to get that door key code, or I had to drive to Fairbanks. I kept pedaling. 

How had I gotten myself in this situation? Unfortunately, I knew how. 

New trail to me!

Good Idea – Poor Planning

I decided to ride to the Tolovana Roadhouse after I dropped out of the T-Dog 120. I hadn’t trained enough. I originally hadn’t planned to enter, but Corrine entered and talked me into doing it. 

“A bunch of our friends are doing it,” she said. “It’ll be fun to see some new trails,” she said. 

She knows my weaknesses. I signed up. Then this winter happened with all the cold and snow. And life happened (including Corrine’s skiing accident). I didn’t get in the proper training. Not by a long shot. 

But a trip out of town and seeing new trails seemed fun. I decided to drive up to Manley, giving a ride to friends who were doing the T-Dog. I could do an out-and-back on the trail, riding with friends for part of the way. The Tolovana Roadhouse seemed a good destination, but it is 31 miles into the T-Dog course. Even I realized that 62 miles was a long way to go based on my training. We kept hearing that the course was mostly flat, but that’s still a lot of miles. I figured I would ride until I started to get tired, then head back to Manley in time for dinner, a delicious soak in the hot springs, and a little relaxing before bed. 

And then I went and won the short course of the Tanana River Challenge. 

Me at the TRC celebrating with Elaine Ramos, second place woman finisher

That race was almost 27 miles, and I felt good at the end. I felt more confident. I started to unconsciously warp reality: 27 miles is almost 31 miles, and a flat course is easy, and if I felt good after 27 miles then I could have gone farther, and…and…and…. 

I’ve done that before. I don’t have a plan. I have a gestalt of a plan. Bad idea. 

At some point I started telling people I would ride to the Tolovana Roadhouse and back. Worse, I started believing it myself.

Enjoying a frosty start on the T-Dog course

A Chaotic Start

I drove to Manley on Friday with Nikki and Travis, who were biking the T-Dog 120 (which was actually about 135 miles). I also brought skis for Hannah, who was entered in the ski division. She had reserved a cabin at Manley Hot Springs Resort that could sleep four and had flown up that morning. (Travis got the cabin spot that opened when Corrine dropped out after breaking her hip.) We arrived with time to enjoy a soak, go to the pre-race meeting, and get some dinner. We had a grand time laughing and joking but got to bed early. 

Me, Hannah, Nikki, and Travis enjoying a soak in the hot springs. 

We woke with plenty of time to get prepared and be at the 8:15am race start, just down the road. Too much time, apparently. When 7:45am came, we weren’t ready. Yeah, I was the main culprit. It’s that gestalt thing. We had so much time, I didn’t need to be anal, so I kind of guesstimated things. Bad idea. 

We got to the race start in time, barely. But then I realized I had left my bike helmet back at the cabin. What a ditz! I told the others to leave without me, then drove back and got my helmet. I got back to the start at 8:15am, but Nikki and Travis were still in the parking lot. Travis was still futzing with his bike. Nikki was waiting for him. The non-mushing T-Dog racers were trickling out one at a time. Hannah left and so did Ben, another friend from Fairbanks. Then Nikki took off. Then the race officials came over to talk to Travis and me, the last two non-mushing people. 

Explanation break: Here’s how the T-Dog starts: The 200-mile mushers can start leaving at 8am. Then the non-mushing folks leave at 8:15, then the rest of the 200-mile mushers leave until 10am. The 120-mile mushers don’t leave until starting at noon.  The first leg of the mushing races doesn’t count against their race time, so the mushers are relaxed with leaving. 

The race officials asked Travis and me if they should let the next 200 musher go or wait for us. Travis was still futzing with his bike. (At least I’m not the only ditz. Thank you, Travis!) Travis told the officials to let the musher go. After that musher took off, we left with Travis leading.

Me (left) and Travis leaving the start

Wonderful Ride to the Roadhouse

The first mile of the trail, a connector to the main trail, was soft. Rideable but really challenging. And we had been warned to take care, because the snow off the trail was super deep. Shortly after leaving the start area, the trail crosses the road. Race organizer Tekla Munson was there, taking videos. Just after crossing the road, my front tire slipped out, and I fell hip-deep into the snow. Luckily, my bike kept me from sinking deeper. We had a good laugh about that. I floundered back onto the trail, got on my bike, and chased after Travis. 

Video screen grab of me falling at the start. By Tekla Munson

When I got to the firmer main trail, Travis was there, peeling off a layer. The temp at race start was about -15F, but we were working hard in the soft snow. I peeled a layer, too, but I also needed to adjust my seat. I told Travis to take off. That was smart. Travis was much better trained and is younger than I am. And now he wanted to catch Nikki, as they had planned to ride together. I let him bike away. 

I settled into a pace and enjoyed the ride. The trail was firm and the riding was easy. The country was all new to me. Occasionally, I heard a yell behind, and I would pull over for one of the 200-mile mushing teams. It was fun to see them go by. 

Soon after, I caught the only two skiers, first Hannah and then Riley, and stopped to chat briefly with each as I passed by.

Hannah skiing into the rising sun

Riley, early in the race

After about 12 miles, the trail started entering open areas with some day-old drifting. The riding was challenging and fun. I stepped off my bike a lot and fell into the snow a couple of times. I laughed a lot. Some places I had to walk my bike. 

Selfie in the snow!

The 200-mile teams continued to catch and pass me. The dogs and mushers all seemed to be having a good time. Everyone was friendly. And by that time the sun was well up in the sky and warming the day. It was great to be out. 

A couple of 200-mile teams passing me early on

Eventually, the trail left the open areas with its drifting, but the trail was still soft. And while it wasn’t steep, it did climb a little. Pedaling was hard work. I started to tire. But the Tolovana Roadhouse was less than 10 miles away. My original idea of probably turning around before the roadhouse was long gone. I was committed.

The trail had often been straight, so I looked forward to a narrow, winding section of trail a couple of miles before the roadhouse. It was fun on a bike. At the end came signs warning that the roadhouse was only about 2 miles away! “Free Parking,” said one. “Valet $5,” said another. “Just kidding,” said the last. 

Tolovana Roadhouse

I pulled up to the roadhouse, elated that I had made it. It’s a fun, historic building that sits at the confluence of the Tanana and Tolovana rivers. (A little too close to the rivers, unfortunately. You can donate here to help save it.) Some friendly volunteers greeted me. I headed inside for a good rest and to get some food and water. I was looking forward to some chili, and a delicious baked potato made by Mary, owner of the roadhouse. 

Made it to the roadhouse!

Inside I saw Ben. He had arrived just a few minutes before me and said Nikki and Travis had left just 5-10 minutes earlier. It would have been fun to see them, but I was glad to visit with Ben.

While at the roadhouse I met Mary and several of the 200-mile mushers. Some had been there a few hours already and weren’t in a hurry to leave since they couldn’t check into Minto until 8pm. We all chatted about the trail and adventures we’ve had while mushing or biking. Mary told us about her plans to increase the amount of time the roadhouse is open. (It’s available for rent here.) 

I ate while we talked. I didn’t look at my clock. I wasn’t racing. I was on gestalt time. But eventually I got ready to go, filling my water and grabbing a few snacks.  (Later I calculated I had stayed a little more than an hour. Should have left earlier!) I wished Ben and the others well and left. A thermometer at the roadhouse said it was 20F above. It’s so nice when the sun starts warming things up! I had to peel layers. 

Ben getting ready to leave the roadhouse

Paying the Price on the Ride Back

Not long after leaving the roadhouse, I ran into the skiers again, Riley and then Hannah. They were in good spirits. I talked to each just briefly as they still had a lot of trail ahead of them. After snapping a couple of pics of Hannah, I glanced at my phone’s time. It was just after 3pm. I put it back into my vest, started biking, started thinking, then stopped and pulled my phone out again. My clock is on military time. Had it said 3pm or 13pm? Definitely 3pm. I started to do the math. (Finally!)

Hannah nearly at the roadhouse

OK, a little confession here. Sometimes I suck at planning. If I’m totally on my own, I think things through well, but if I’m just tagging along with someone else, I get lackadaisical. For the first part of this outing, I had been planning to tag along with Travis and Nikki. That didn’t happen, but I guess my mind was in that mode. Now I was on my own and I had a reality check. There would be no long, relaxing evening at the Manley Hot Springs. I would need to keep up a steady pace just to get back before the hot springs restaurant closed at 10pm. And I needed that cabin key code. (I had a different cabin rented for the second night so a different code.) Jesse at the resort had said she would email it to me. I had the resort wi-fi password from the first night’s stay, but what if she forgot? Still, I wasn’t worried. I didn’t do the math exactly, but I figured I could make it. 

On the return trip, I passed the 120-mile mushing teams, which had started leaving at noon. Trail passes were easy because I could usually see them well ahead of time. That was fun. And the soft trail didn’t seem so bad. Now I was going slightly downhill and had a little tailwind. I smiled as I rode. 

Seeing all the teams go by was fun!

My smile faded a bit when I got to the open sections. The wind had picked up and was now a crosswind. It wasn’t cold, but it blew new snow into the trail. Some sections I could bike easily, some with difficulty; and some I had to walk. 

Eventually, I passed the last of the mushers, and finally the trail sweeps came by on snowmachines. They checked to make sure I was all right. We said our goodbyes and headed our separate directions. Their trail was quickly getting buried in snow. Ugh. More walking and challenging trail.

Some riding, a lot of walking

I was getting tired. My hands were going numb. My arse was sore. The stupidity of my little adventure was sinking in. I was not trained for this. Had the trail been solid for most of the way, like it had been for the Tanana River Challenge, the ride would have been within my ability. Hard, but doable. But soft trail saps energy. And drifted trail requires walking. I was really looking forward to getting back to that first 12 or so miles of trail, which had been hard in the morning. I really hoped it had stayed that way. 

And it had! I got to that section and pedaled, trying to keep a steady pace, and watching for all trail turnoffs. But I started getting more tired. I had to stop occasionally and take short rest breaks. I had been snacking all along, so I would use these breaks to eat and drink some water. Eating was getting harder, though. I alternated between feeling hungry and having no appetite at all. 

As the sun set, the rest breaks became more frequent. I used tiny hills as an excuse to get off and push my bike. And worried that I wouldn’t make it back to the resort in time to get dinner or the key code. I tried my phone just in case there was some cell service, but of course there wasn’t. I didn’t look at the time. What did it matter? I kept riding. And resting. And riding. And resting. The last few miles felt like it took forever.

Good trail, but daylight is fading

A Warm Bed? Or a Long Drive Back to Fairbanks?

I got to that last mile of connector trail, which had been so soft at the start. It was still soft. I finally checked my phone’s clock: 9:58pm. No restaurant dinner. And still no cell service. (Yeah, I know, but I had to try.) I rode about 50 feet of that trail, but I just didn’t have the energy. I had to walk, so I walked as fast as I could (which wasn’t that fast). Fortunately, the trail crosses the road before reaching the starting area, so I just biked the road back to the start. I started my truck, loaded my bike, and got in. Now it was about 10:20pm. I tried my phone again. No luck. 

Night comes

Fortunately, the drive to the resort was short. I pulled up to the restaurant, relieved to see lights on inside. I wouldn’t get dinner, but maybe someone was inside cleaning up. And there was! Jesse gave me the key code (she had also emailed it to me earlier) and I thanked her. 

I got to my cabin, unloaded what I needed, and checked my phone. Corrine had texted a bit earlier, saying she was a little worried that she hadn’t heard from me. I let her know that I was fine and that we could talk in the morning. I had a freeze-dried meal in my duffle (see, I come prepared for some things!), but I wasn’t hungry. I showered and collapsed in bed, so grateful that I didn’t have to drive back to Fairbanks that night.

That experience really gave me an appreciation for the three bikers – Nikki, Travis, and Ben – and one skier – Riley – who were able to finish the whole 135 miles. Well done all! And congrats to all who tried! 

Human-powered finishers of the 2026 T-Dog 120 (from left): Riley, Ben, Nikki, and Travis.
Pic by Corrine

But I’ve really got to remember to plan things out for adventures like this. Even if I’m going along with someone else who is doing a lot of the planning. No more gestalting! I’m sure I’ll get it figured out eventually. After all, I’m only 66. Plenty of time for learning! 

One more shot of the dogs!

A Tanana River Challenge Win? Really? Maybe!

Post by Eric

I almost didn’t do the Tanana River Challenge this year. 

I had planned on doing the long course version (I haven’t yet done that one by bike), but I just didn’t get the training in. All the cold and snow this winter was a factor, but there were a variety of other things (including a quick trip to Minnesota after Corrine broke her hip). 

But as the TRC race day approached, instead of dropping out, I decided to drop down to the short course. After I did, the race organizers announced route changes due to challenges in putting in the trail (all the cold and snow, again). The short course was almost 27 miles, and the long course would be almost 33 miles. Not a big difference, but I decided the short course was still enough for this year.

A Brisk Start

The morning was chilly, about 15F below or so, but that didn’t feel too bad after this winter. The start, which normally is held on the river on a wide trail, was held in the parking lot because the trail onto the river was narrow, only the width of a snowmachine. (Not much traffic – once again the cold and snow.)  

When race organizers announced the start, most of the 20 or 30 racers kind of milled around. A large bank of plowed snow blocked my view of the river trail, so I couldn’t quite see what was happening. Not many racers appeared eager to go, so I took off. I immediately saw that the only people ahead of me were two skiers and four bikers. Whoops. I’m normally a middle to back-of-the-pack kind of guy, so I knew there would be some shuffling around. A little farther out the trail was a little wider, so that would work out fine for passing. 

That dot is Elaine, way out in front

We bikers quickly passed the skiers. Then I passed one biker, then another. I was in second place! I laughed. I knew that wouldn’t last. The biker in front of me (who turned out to be Elaine Ramos) was pulling away. That seemed normal. I rode to the side to give people room to pass me. I rode like that for quite a while, but no one came by. Finally, I looked back. Everyone else was way back there. What the hell?! That didn’t seem right, but maybe some of the faster guys were just conserving energy or were caught behind slower riders. I didn’t feel like I was pushing too hard. The trail was fast, my pace felt good, so I kept going. 

Where is everybody?

After 7 miles, I caught Elaine on the soft and challenging side trail that connects the river trail to Race Checkpoint #1and the trail that heads into the hills. I like challenging trails, so I passed Elaine and was first to Checkpoint #1. But by then some of the faster people behind had caught up. I stopped at the checkpoint to verify that I was indeed the first short-course person. The volunteers confirmed it. I laughed and shook my head. “I’m not supposed to be here,” I said. While I was chatting, Elaine and a few others passed the checkpoint without stopping. The world was righting itself again! I didn’t bother counting how many passed.

Checkpoint #1: Other racers start catching up

The first part of the trail in the woods had some challenging sections. I passed Elaine in there and another biker and another. But I knew the challenging parts would end and so would my advantage. 

We soon got to the short, really steep climb where everyone pushes their bike or carries their skis. By the time I got to the top, a couple of bikers were already there and Elaine was right behind. It was fun to ride with the lead pack for a while, but the trail was good, so I knew it wouldn’t last. 

At the top of the short, steep hill, a rider leaves me behind

Then some reshuffling happened. The first biker was slowing, so the second biker passed, but I caught both and passed them. Really?  By that time Elaine was right on my tail. That felt more normal, and I asked if she wanted to pass, but she said, “I’m good.” 

A smiling Elaine makes the last push over the steep, short hill.

The World Goes Upside Down Again

At that point I had lost track of how many had been ahead of me. Was I in the lead again? No, that couldn’t be. There was a checkpoint at the turnoff to Drew’s Longshot Trail. I asked the volunteers if I was the first short-course person through. They had to check. The long course racers, who had started an hour earlier, used this part of the course, too. They confirmed I was in the lead. “Really?” I asked. “Are you sure?” Yep, they confirmed it. The other racers stopped for a snack. I downed a couple of Oreos, but everyone else was still getting their snacks so I took off. “Might as well keep ahead of them for as long as I can,” I thought.

Drew’s Longshot was more challenging, the snow less compacted. It was a bit punchy in places. But you could mostly see where the long-course racers had problems. I was back in my element! I was able to ride almost everything without having to walk or step off. I knew I would gain time on some of the riders, which made me smile. It would take them longer to catch me when the going got good. There are advantages to liking challenging trails! 

Drew's Longshot Trail has a nice viewpoint. Gotta stop for that!

We turned off Longshot and started climbing Lookout. Eventually, I saw another biker. At first, I thought it might be another short-course racer, but I was going faster than he was. When I passed him, I asked, “Am I the first short-course racer to pass you?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. I rode off shaking my head. Was this really happening?

We turned onto another trail heading down. This was again punchy. My territory! I passed a long-course skijorer splayed out in the snow, his dogs sitting, watching him. I stopped to ask if he damaged anything. “Just my pride.” 

We eventually hit a fast, curvy trail that I later learned was the upper part of Moose Wallow Trail. That was mostly downhill and so much fun! I was hooting and hollering! The long-course biker was right behind. It was a great time. Eventually we got back onto the main trail and soon ended up back at the checkpoint on the river, the last one of the race. 

“Am I really the first short-course racer?” I asked. I suppose it should have been obvious, but I still couldn’t quite believe it. They confirmed it. I laughed and told them I wasn’t used to it. “I don’t win anything,” I said. “I’ve got a lot of red lantern finishes, though.” They laughed with me. Patrik Sartz was there. He’s younger, faster, stronger, and more competitive than I am. He smiled, but he was also insistent. “You need to go!” 

Time to Race!

When I got out to the main river trail, I looked back. No other racers had reached the checkpoint. I checked my watch to make sure the mileage was what it should be. I didn’t THINK I had made a wrong turn somewhere, but maybe I had screwed up and shortcut the course. Nope, I had about 20 miles with about 7 to go. I hadn’t shortcut the course. The long-course racer had already taken off and was just ahead of me on the trail. I thought, “I think I can actually win this thing. I guess I should act like I’m racing.” 

I took off and soon caught the long course racer while he was stopped. I stopped to chat with him a bit, before taking off again. (Yeah, I can be competitive, but sometimes you just gotta chat.) Normally, I don’t like flat trails, but now I was jazzed. I pushed hard, still half-expecting some short-course rider to come up behind me. 

A short distance from the end, I passed a long-course skijorer. Shortly after passing, I looked down and the dogs were next to me. “Hi guys,” I said laughing and sped up a bit, leaving them behind. Then a few minutes later, I looked down and there were there again! I laughed. The skijorer said, “I’m not having to work at all!” I sped up again! 

First? Really?

I crossed the finish line flying, just ahead of the skijorer. Immediately, two riding buddies who had entered the long-course race, Glenn and Matt, came over from the post-race bonfire to talk to me. I asked them, “Did you see that?” They had no idea what I was talking about. “I think I just won the short race” They were impressed. (And I think, a bit surprised. They know my usual riding abilities.)

But still, I couldn’t quite believe it. I rode over to the finish officials. “Did I really just win the short race?” They checked and confirmed it. I laughed. “I never win anything!” They laughed along with me. 

Me and Elaine at the end. She was the second woman finisher of the short course. Go Elaine!

I still don’t quite know how it happened. I do know none of the really big local racers were in the short-course race. Conner Truskowski and Curtis Henry duked it out for a sprint finish in the long-course race. Their average speed in Strava was 11.4 mph. My average speed was 7.6 mph. That’s a good reality check. I didn’t suddenly get super-fast and strong by doing minimal training. It was mainly the luck of the draw as to who else entered the short course and what their training and race goals were. That and those delicious challenging trails. I'm guessing they slowed a lot of people. But a win is a win. I’ll take it!

My Other Win

(Actually, I did win another race this winter. It was a snowshoe race, the Ballaine Ridge Snowshoe Classic. Due to soft trails, only two people -- Tom and I -- did the long course, about 10K. Tom is a lot faster than me, but he accidently shortcut the course, so I was the only long-course official finisher and therefore the winner! I’ll take that win,too!)

Selfie during the Ballaine Ridge Snowshoe Classic

Bad Luck at the Birkie

 

Post by Corrine

Suddenly, I was falling. 

I’m not sure what happened. The hill wasn’t different than the multitude of other hills I had already skied down. I wasn’t trying to avoid other ski racers around me. Did I catch an edge? I’m not sure. One minute I was zipping down the hill about 15 mph, and the next, I hit the ground hard on my right thigh. 

I’ve fallen skiing many times, so I got up and started skiing again. But this felt different. It hurt. A lot. I wasn’t sure I could keep going. What bad luck! I was only 16 kilometers into the 50-kilometer American Birkebeiner ski race. 

Unfortunately, it was not the only bad luck that my son Riley and I had during the week of the Birkie. We had a few bad breaks. One really bad one.

Back to the Birkie

The American Birkebeiner is North America’s biggest 50-kilometer ski marathon, a point-to-point race from Cable to Hayward, Wisconsin, with about 10,000 skiers participating in the week of ski races. Eric, Riley, and I completed the race last year and we all had a lot of fun. Eric had no desire to go back, but Riley wanted to return to see if he could do the race faster. I decided to join him and see if I could improve, too. Last year I finished in five hours and one minute. Could I get below five hours this year? 

Bad Luck with the Weather

Hayward Lake the day before our race.  2 days earlier there was standing water  on it!

Building up to the Birkie, Hayward was having one of their best ski seasons in a long time. There was a good base of snow with temperatures below freezing. Then the week before the race, the temperature warmed to the upper 40s Fahrenheit, and it rained for two days during Birkie week. Not great, but it wasn’t forecast to rain on race day, and we were told that the temperature would drop below freezing before the race. The groomers would have time to do their magic to get the course ready. 

I packed my skin skis along with my regular skis. Skin skis have a synthetic rug-like material on the kick zone, so they don’t need kick wax. They work well in warm or icy conditions. Riley paid to have his skis waxed by local experts. We both tried to outmaneuver the bad luck. 

Pre-Race Bad Luck

Even before he left for Wisconsin, Riley, who lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, was having bad luck. 

•  Earlier, he and his wife, Sam, had to move into an Airbnb when they unexpectedly couldn’t move into the housesitting they lined up before the lease on their old place ran out. Then they needed to move out of the Airbnb before Riley flew to Minneapolis for the race.
• The night before Riley was due to fly out, Sam was leaving work when someone backed into her car, making it basically undriveable. Riley packed up the Airbnb while Sam booked a hotel room near the airport.
• Riley went to pick up Sam at work. He went in for about 15 minutes to help her. While he was inside, another car backed into his car! Fortunately, the damage wasn’t as bad and the car was drivable.
• They packed everything into his car and went to the hotel Sam had booked. There they discovered that the hotel charges an additional $250 per night fee if you live in Albuquerque! They scrambled, canceling the reservation and finding a friend who had room for Sam and Riley to stay. Early the next morning, Sam drove Riley to the airport.

Riley's car after being backed into

Talk about bad luck! Despite all that, Riley was in pretty good spirits when we met up at the airport in Minneapolis. As we were getting Riley’s bags, a mini-blizzard hit the city, with 4-5 inches of snow and high winds that lasted several hours. Luckily, we were staying near the airport that night, so we had only a short drive in those bad conditions. We found out later that the airport shut down for several hours. We just squeaked in! So not all bad luck!

More Pre-Race Bad Luck 

By the next morning the storm was over, and the roads were mostly slushy until about 20 minutes north of Minneapolis where they were dry. The storm had been very localized. 

We made it to Hayward, dropped off Riley’s skis to be waxed, got our bibs, checked out the Expo, and then drove the hour north to our Airbnb in Ashland, Wisconsin. 

We decided to go for a short ski and headed to Copper Falls State Park, just 30 minutes from our place. We had a great little ski, and I definitely felt that my skin skis were the right choice for the conditions. They were even faster than Riley’s older skate skis on the downhills. (Skate skis are usually faster than classic skis as they don’t have any kick wax on them.) We headed back to our place, stopping at Culvers (a Wisconsin fast food icon) where I got local walleye fish and chips and Riley had some fried cheese curds. When in Wisconsin, be like the locals! We watched the Olympics and went to bed.

Culver's (local) walleye fish and chips and fried cheese curds.  Doesn't get much more Wisconsin than that!

Unfortunately, Riley woke up the next morning with a slightly scratchy throat, some postnasal drainage, and felt a bit more tired than usual. He felt like he might be coming down with a cold. And the Birkie was only a day away! He decided to rest while I headed to a local xc ski area to get in another short ski. The trails had just been groomed and the skiing was awesome, but I was bummed for Riley. He was poised for a really fast Birkie. But now he had a cold. Bad timing and bad luck but not surprising with all the stress he had been under.

He woke up the next morning feeling about the same. Not bad enough to drop out, but he probably wouldn’t be able to push hard. We made our way to the start and made plans to meet up at the end, as it would take me a couple of hours longer than him to finish.

Ready for the race to begin

Disaster

Having learned from last year, I made sure to get to front of my wave in a place where I could ski in tracks. The 50K is the big attraction with over seven thousand racers competing, so many that the race starts in waves of about 200-300 each. It’s a bit chaotic, but if you want to improve your time, you’ve got to position yourself correctly. 

Our wave started and I felt good. The tracks were very fast and a little icy in places, so I was glad I had my skin skis. I had great kick and good glide. I was making good time navigating through and around people. I was having fun when I got to that hill…and…crash! 

Luckily a Birkie Ambassador (volunteers who ski the course, encouraging and helping racers) had been chatting with me moments earlier and saw me fall. She helped me get out of the way and back on my feet. I told her I was okay and didn’t need a medic. My groin was sore and I thought maybe I had pulled a muscle. She told me the next aid station was nearby and she would ski there to let them know I was coming. 

I continued but quickly realized my race was over. I was able to limp-ski but not well. I could herringbone up and gingerly snowplow down, but I hurt too much to stride with my right leg. At the aid station, the medics checked me over. I felt fine except for the pain in my anterior thigh and my groin. It was hard to use my quadriceps muscle to lift my leg, so I assumed I had a muscle/groin sprain. After checking me over, the medics said I was good to go.

A volunteer drove me to the finish where I retrieved my bag, changed my clothes, and met up with Riley. I was hobbling okay with the use of a ski pole, so we went to the finishers’ tent to get our free soup and hot chocolate and then took a bus back to our car. I could limp but couldn't put a lot of weight on my leg and couldn't raise my thigh to get in the car so I still figured it was a muscle or ligament strain. 

Getting food with Riley after the race

But by the time we got back to our Airbnb in Ashland, about four hours after the accident, the pain was worse. I decided to go to an ER/urgent care and get an x-ray just to be sure I didn’t have a fracture. By the time we got there, I couldn't bear any weight on my right leg. I had to use a wheelchair to get into the hospital and felt most comfortable with my leg flexed and externally rotated (classic position for a hip fracture). I was more worried it might be fractured but was still hopeful. 

The Worst of the Bad Luck

The x-ray showed it. 

I had a fracture through the neck of the femur, a typical hip fracture. The physician wanted to send me to Duluth via ambulance, but I talked him into letting us drive. I got a shot of Toradol and then a Vicodin and that helped the pain to be tolerable. Riley said the emergency doctor was “stunned” that I had skied a kilometer and walked about a half a mile on the fracture. I just thought it was a bad groin sprain! We went to our Airbnb, packed up and were at the hospital in Duluth two hours later. 

Not happy about the diagnosis

At least I had a room with a view -  Lake Superior at sunrise

About 36 hours later I had my surgery, a total right hip replacement. The surgeon thought that was the best option given my age and activity level. I didn’t argue. He could have pinned my bones and let them heal, but that would have meant 6-8 weeks of no weight-bearing activity. Yikes! With the replacement, I was walking a bit the same day. Plus, I’ve already got two knee replacements, so why not some more hardware?! Less than two days later I am out of the hospital and recovering at a hotel waiting to fly home in two more days. 

My new hip

Learning to use adaptive equipment since I'm not supposed to bend over to put on my socks.

So How Was Riley’s Race?

Riley had to fly home the day after the race, but Eric was able to fly down on the red eye, so they crossed paths in Minneapolis to hand off the rental car. Here is Riley’s race report:

“I started off the race very conservatively, but thankfully the snow conditions and my skis were in my favor. Rain earlier in the week meant that the race course was incredibly fast. I had also gotten new skis this winter and decided to pay for a professional wax application. All this culminated in skis that felt like some of the fastest in Wave 2. 

Riley zooming along the course passing other racers!

I tried to take advantage by going really easy on the uphills and then trying to find the fastest parts of the course on the flats and downhills to catch back up. This allowed me to stay on pace with the skiers around me even without being able to keep my heart rate high due to my cold. That was a nice contrast to last year where I had slow skis! Ending on a high note, in the last 3km and over the lake I passed over 20 people. My years of skiing in Iowa prepared me well for the icy conditions on the lake. 

That's a pretty damn fast time!

Ultimately the race went a lot better than I thought it would. I improved a few places from last year and because of the fast conditions was 23 minutes faster! Nothing has been announced, but I don't think I made my goal of getting into Wave 1, so I guess I will have to come back next year.”

Final Thoughts 

Riley and I had a lot of bad luck, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, except for my hip fracture none of it was a deal breaker (pun intended!). And overall, I’m doing remarkably well. I’m up walking, not needing any strong pain medications and sleeping pretty well, too. I am bummed because I had several fun outdoor adventures planned in the next few months that I will need to cancel. Rehabbing from a hip fracture was not part of those plans. But such is life. Although I’m getting older, I’m not quite over the hill yet, so I’ll get back at it again in the future. Or at least that is my new plan!