Trail Running in Alaska’s Extreme Seasons Teaches One Thing: Patience

This text was initially printed within the Summer season 2022 print subject of Path Runner journal.

Ten minutes into my first winter run in Fairbanks, Alaska, a white polka dot the scale of a dime appeared on the tip of my nostril. “Reverse Rudolph,” my boyfriend referred to as it, as the remainder of my face matched the shade of that reindeer’s brilliant snout. “Frostnip,” the locals referred to as it, which was in all probability extra correct. Both approach, it felt drastic for a woman from sunny Los Angeles. 

It appeared clear to me then, again after I was merely a customer to the far north, that winter in Fairbanks was not conducive to operating—at the least not for me. Then I moved there, and that proved to be true.

Amber-blue twilight at 3 pm. Earlier than that, a glow each orange and brown, like sunshine filtered via a bottle of root beer. Blankets of snow so far as the attention can see. Roads that look extra like toboggan chutes. The panorama is full of pint-sized spruce bushes, stunted by permafrost and mid-winter air that’s too dry and too chilly for snow. On prime of that, there are post-holed prints from a peeved moose who needed to punch via snowpack at almost twice Alaska’s common price for this level within the season. 

Right here, placing on trainers in winter means headlamps, white fingers, ft that really feel like blocks of wooden, and a face that stings like a pale vacationer in Maui. (Or, if masked, drips like a toddler with allergic reactions.) There’s the perpetual menace of “Reverse Rudolph” (and its looming offshoot: necrotic schnoz). To not point out offended animals greater than a snowmobile on stilts.  So far as I can inform, one of the best factor about operating in Alaska in winter is the truth that the bears—grizzlies, no much less—are hibernating. Then once more, I want to be additionally.

It was tough, at first, to just accept the treadmill on the fitness center as my sole outlet for operating. Particularly when my N95 masks made me sound and really feel like Darth Vader with bronchial asthma. However belabored respiratory and fewer mileage appeared well worth the worth of retaining my corporeal extremities. What appeared unattainable to deal with was the method of ready: Will the snow and chilly ever go away?!

Amber-blue twilight at 3 pm. Earlier than that, a glow each orange and brown, like sunshine filtered via a bottle of root beer. Blankets of snow so far as the attention can see.

The issue with ready is the worry that crops up in its wake. We’ve all felt it. Will I get injured earlier than race day? Will my legs final one other 99 miles? Will my runner make it to the help station? 

Days shrink. Darkness creeps in. Coldness pervades each side of life. The power to maneuver in the best way you’re most accustomed is gone. 

What if I don’t run in any respect for almost six months? Am I nonetheless a runner?

Then the ice cracks. The snow melts. The solar glows brilliant yellow and refuses to vanish. All of a sudden, the query is nonsensical, like asking: When a bear comes out of hibernation, is it nonetheless a bear?

So I cease asking questions and run whereas I can—at the least for one more six months, whereas my nostril can nonetheless keep its correct hue.

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