Trapped

trapps nordic ski

The last time I was at Trapp’s was in 1994 for a national cup bike race. It was 50 degrees and raining.  I had a cold, crashed on slick railroad tracks and finished 10 minutes behind George Hincapie.

I didn’t realize how beautiful it was until I drove up through the snow-covered hills on Saturday morning.

I had the weekend to myself. And I planned to ski.

On Saturday, I skied for 4 hours. A couple hours of classic. A couple of hours of skate. I skied slowly. I took breaks. I went up to the Cabin three times, climbing over 1500 meters on the day. That may explain why I covered less than 45km. I milked every last minute of daylight, skiing into the dusk and fatigue, feeling tired and out of my body by the end.

On Sunday, I skied some more. I got roped into doing classic sprint relay simulations with the CSU kids. 4 times 1.5km, with a stinger of a hill in the finale. I didn’t hold back much. I came pretty close to throwing up. It was a good workout and I was cooked by the end. I did much better than I thought I would, especially with my wax slipping the last two times.

Then I skate skied another hour or so.

Counting Friday’s 15-mile run, it was a big block of endurance training.

It felt necessary. Things have been a little rough lately. The short workouts, crammed into the crevices before and after work, weren’t doing the job.

I needed some distance.

And I got plenty of it.

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