Sorority of Three Males

This past year has been interesting with regard to use of my body, but alas, interesting times are not always good. Still, I've been realizing and remarking, possibly even before in this space, that I have the privilege of still being here to experience the less than ideal. Hey, I'll take it! As this year waned, I also realized that I'm pretty sure I never completed a full out and back lap of the Seven Sisters run on this lap of the earth round the sun. That wouldn't do.

Happily, my body has recovered to the point where it could conceivably do just that, so I reached out to Tim who usually instigates the Sunday group run on the Holyoke Range to lobby for a lap the Sisters. For the holiday, Tim is away in upstate New York, but he replied that my other running buddy Matt was taking the reins. Despite the fresh snow cover and forecast of frigid temperatures, Matt was game for a winter visit of the gals, but keep in mind, regarding Matt's judgement, the one time we met to ride bikes, he easily agreed to my suggestion that we ignore the "Detour. Bridge closed" signs.

But why settle for company when you can assemble a crowd? I forwarded the plan to Brian, husband of race organizer Amy, who will typically run some version of that race course at least once a weekend. Brian did join us, and since Matt and I agreed to a later start that would be merely cold rather than frigid, Brian started early for a warm up lap over Mount Norwattuck to the east. I sufficed with the five mile ride to the notch, which was enough of a warm up at twenty degrees to have my jacket flapping fully unzipped at the top of the climb.

Matt and I probed Brian for a report on current trail conditions, then ignored his lead and still brought the strap-on shoes spikes that he decided to forego. I pulled mine on as soon as we crossed the road, and Matt increased his traction after reaching the summit of Bare without. Brian did question his choice to leave them behind, but with studded, aggressive tread and likely having more experience on that trail than anyone alive, he did just fine. The top of Bare, as expected, was also the point where the trail packing from prior traffic dropped by two thirds.

We did have some tracks to follow until reaching the middle half of the range at Low Point (yes, a rather unimaginative official name), at which point I started breaking a fresh path through the untouch powder. Runners have different preferences than skiers, and nobody complained that I didn't share first tracks. Once more, Brian proclaimed that my bizarrely log stride gives me an added advantage in the snow, which makes sense if each step includes a little slip, and I amass fewer of those.

First tracks!

Alas, no skis.

Credit to Matt for the picture

We did it! And we did it some more, and some more, and some mire, and after three hours and a third of a fouth hour (still under double a fast time), we completed a full out and back lap to wind up back where we started, and it didn't feel at all futile. It's a special place to run, and the race itself means a lot to me. Not only is it the first trail race I ran as an adult and only five miles from my home, I feel a connection to its history, knowing both the original race promoter Fred, as well as Peter who first quipped, "Imagine holding a race here?" It's also a course that is exceptionally well suited to an athlete like myself who isn't truly a runner, just a fast hiker going up who makes a show of keeping up with gravity on the way back down. I'm optimistic of being able to give it another full go on May 2nd of next year, on bare dirt and rocks!