Ven dar is snowshoe race, dar I go.

 For the word play of this post's title to almost make sense, read it with a tremendously bad attempt at an Eastern European accent, but really, you're probably better off accepting that it just doesn't make sense.

This past Saturday, my friend Amy promoted a race on snowshoes at the DAR state forest, and other friends took the bait to gain some snowy elevation and run with a wide stride, so there I went to cheer everyone. Ok, ok, it was also a destination for a slightly longer ride, getting me out of the hubbub of the river valley, so dar you go; we all were baited.

It was a, to use an amazingly generic positive word, nice ride up there, with only a misting dampness, and by leaving twenty minutes later than I intended, I missed the start by only twelve minutes.  After a quick hello and chat with the timing volunteer, I leaned my bike against the wooden guardrail and started to stroll up the snowmobile-trail-turned-race-course, passing a marooned car lightly stuck in the snow. Another advantage of transport by bike: I've never had my wheel so stuck I couldn't lift it out with one hand. Alright, maybe two hands for a loaded touring rig.

I also had a chance to enjoy my road cookie.

I won't explain fully, but am happy to say the bite marks were all mine, and with it dry despite the prior night's rain, it couldn't have been there that long.  Plus, calcium chloride kills bacteria, right?

Perfect timing, I made it maybe a quarter mile before the lead runner came into view on the out and back course, and once he came into somewhat closer view, I recognized him as Steve, the fellow who endured fourteen hours of intensive Salem exposure by joining me for December's winter solstice night hike. That must have been good training, but for what, I won't guess. Yay, rah, rah, go Steve!

Maybe a minute later, my next friend, Matt, plodded (they're snowshoes after all) past in second place. Matt was one of the kind folk who visited me in the hospital back in 2022. Again, good timing, it was at a point late enough that I actually remembered for more than two minutes that he did! Way to go, Matt, on all counts, nice job.

Third runner, hey, that's friend Max, a consistent attendee to the Friday morning Brookfield Farm run. Of course, in addition to running from there, he also works and even lives there, so probably hard to work an inconvenience excuse. Heck, his coworker and housemate Bonnie had to have combo ACL/MCL surgery to get out of the weekly run. Yahoo Max, and super good healing Bonnie! She joined finish line festivities just two months after surgery, and no more crutches! An extra yahoo for Bonnie's healing.

While I lost track of placing overall, another congrats to friend and first woman Amy, who in addition to running the event was able to run IN the event. Sometimes small is beautiful, and usually a lot less stressful. It was nice to see her have the opportunity to play in her own reindeer games, even if it entailed waddling in very slightly oversized shoes.

I like snowshoes. I had (and still have) my first pair just shy of four decades ago. When snow is deep, and terrain is too steep and/or rugged for cross country skis, they are THE way to move through the woods, but maybe fifteen to twenty years ago, I saw a book about "snowshoeing", which took me a bit by surprise, as I'd always considered it simply walking, but with snowshoes. I guess I'm just overly simple, as it wasn't simply a pamphlet, but a true book, big enough to weigh a reader down enough to posthole through an otherwise supportive crust!

I have a somewhat ornery side, so as correlary to the sport of snowshoeing as something more involved than walking, or hiking, or running with snowshoes, I proposed starting the sport of galoshing. No, not simply walking with galoshes, the sport would be scored on a combination of time and style points for best splash, awarded by judges, similar to mogul skiing, and that's an olympic sport! Yeah, I want to write the book.

But enough of that, and it seems snowshoes as well. After the race and some hot cocoa, Steve and Matt were headed out for an extra run of the well packed snowmobile trail course to collect the marking flags, and they traded their unnecessary snowshoes for my company, running along in my rubber ducky boots. Oh well, it wouldn't have been a snowshoe race without snowshoes, even if they weren't needed, or possibly even a hindrance. Oh well, I just hope Steve and Matt didn't include me on their cool down lap to make it a "retired bike racer run".

Hmm, do I hear a book title in that?

NOPE!