Winter Humility by Alan Miller
Run training in winter in Montreal presents some challenges. Most of them are ice and snow related along with their buddies, cold wind and freezing temperatures. The challenge is to keep it fresh and keep getting out there.
I don't know who first said it, but I have often repeated the phrases in winter “There are there are no bad conditions, only bad clothing choices!” and the closely related “I'm going out and doing it, it's just a question of what I need to wear to get it done. Weather is a mindset!”
Sometimes the temperatures in Montreal will get below -20 Celsius ( -4 F) and if there is a wind chill the effect would feel well below -30 Celsius. These would be challenging runs and often our club, Phoenix Runners would make for some sheltered woods with snowshoe trails that we could adventure into while being protected from the wind. If conditions were rough and we would return to our cars at the end of our run looking a bit like the last remnants of Scott’s Antarctic expeditions. The girls would have white ice mascara on their eyelashes and the guys that started with a modest unshaven stubble would return with a full-on Santa Claus white ice beard. Everyone would have a collar of ice around their neck scarves formed by frozen condensation escaping from the multiple layers of clothing.
Often though, if the temperature was around -10 to -15 there would be a lack of cloud cover, and the sky would be a stark royal blue on top of a crystal white landscape. Once we were warmed up the bright snowy trails would summon us back to our childhood and we would laugh and giggle as we navigated our way through areas some of which could only be reached in winter when the marshes and lakes were frozen over. We gave names to some of the areas so that we could talk about them and return for subsequent adventures. “Narnia” for an area thick with young pine trees packed close to the trail unbending under heavy snow blankets. Everyone who ran through there came out smiling and calling joyfully to each other, with someone always stopping to take video of the others zigzagging through in single file. I swear, if Mr. Tumnus had put in an appearance, no one would have been surprised. “The Upside Down” was an area through a frozen marsh that we found completely by accident when five of us decided to follow some rabbit tracks in the snow. We pushed our way through some dead bullrushes and there it was. I guess we could have called it Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass given that a rabbit led us there, but Stranger Things was a huge Netflix hit at the time and we felt like we had discovered a new world without really knowing how we got there.
We tried hard to make our own fun to make training easier in the winter. Sundays was usually a standard recovery run day on a standard route with coffee at the local Tim Horton's afterwards. In the early days there were only four of us who ran so the recovery run was christened The Horsemen of the Apocalypse. These days there are often 15 to 20 runners, but the name stuck, except at Christmas when The Elves of the Apocalypse don their Santa hats, drink a small toast of Bailey's Irish Cream and give out candy canes to passersby that we meet on the run.
One Sunday morning, in the deep winter of 2022, I declared that we were running to Dowker Island in the middle of the Saint Lawrence River. We had so much cold weather that the mighty St. Lawrence was completely frozen over and so solid that people would drive larges SUVs out onto it, pitch a tent, and drill a hole for a spot of ice fishing. About 10 of us ventured out onto the ice and ran almost 2 kilometres across the river to the uninhabited island. It made for a very interesting looking Strava entry and was a big talking point in the club. Sadly, conditions haven't been consistently cold enough to provide safe conditions for another visit since then. Curse you global warming!
As runners with the dedication to be consistent even in Canadian winters we took time to try and keep it interesting and fun. This means doing different stuff occasionally and hopefully having a great experience. If not, then at least a good story to tell your friends afterwards.
One snowy weekend I decided to run on the mountain and with two of my running buddies at the time Mike and Cheryl.” On the mountain” in Montreal means in the park of Mount Royal. It is the Central Park of Montreal and a playground for all the city dwellers at the weekend. In the summer, picnics, runners, bikers, hiking and boating. In winter, runners, bikers, skaters, skiers and tobogganing.
The three of us were jogging together at an easy pace up the snow-covered main trail providing a consistent hill of about 5% gradient winding for 4 kilometres to the top of Mount Royal, more a hill than a mountain, overlooking the city. The side of our trail was set aside for cross country skiers who were also working their way up the trail to the summit. We would pass skiers from time to time, say “bonjour, hi!” as one does in Montreal, and continue our climb.
It was apparently easier for runners to get up the hill than it was for people on skis. “Oh, we seem to be passing another skier.” I remarked jovially to my running partners. The skier in question looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, do you want to race?” he inquired. He seemed to be good humored about it and we were in a positive mood so I thought I would give it a shake. Being of Northern English and Australian background, I couldn't do it without some friendly banter. “Let’s see what you got then”.
My new skier friend immediately raised his pace, and I upped my effort to match him with my two friends in tow just behind. I took a deep breath and said, as casually as possible, “Let me know when you want to start?” He looked at me with slight surprise but still smiling he raised the pace again once again. I matched him and tested him by pushing even harder. He responded and the game was absolutely afoot!
I was probably doing about 80% full effort and figured I wouldn't be able to keep this up, going uphill, for more than a few minutes. My teammates we're less verbally invested than myself and eased off leaving me to my foolish mano-a-mano challenge with this increasingly capable skier. I figured I had about 30 seconds left at what was becoming an uphill flat-out sprint, so I made my last psychological play. Raising my effort once more I said as casually as possible.” I suppose we should start putting in some effort”. He looked over at me, grinned, and put his skis into some kind of turbo boosted overdrive. Although I was racing at the limit of my legs and lungs, he left me as if I was standing still. As he zoomed away, I heard him laughing and I summed up enough oxygen to shout up the hill “OK! We'll call it a draw!”
As he disappeared in the distance I bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air, but chuckling with the fun of it. My two buddies came up laughing, congratulating me on my huge effort, and remarking how badly I just got my ass handed to me by a casual skier.
As we stood on the trail gathering our energy, another skier came up from behind. “Do you know who that is?”, he asked us, pointing at the tiny dwindling figure in the distance. “That is Don Farley, Canadian National champion at cross country skiing”.
I had just picked a random race with the fastest strongest skier that Canada has ever produced. Two-time Olympian with 35 Canadian National championship medals. What's more, I'd also thought I could psych him out with a bit of friendly trash talk!
As Mike, Cheryl and I finished our easy climb reflecting on my newfound humility a group of skiers sped downwards through the trees. One of them gave me a shout and a friendly wave. Thanks for the lesson, Don!