Dogtooth Dash (Canadian National Championships)

or,

"Round 2 with the Arch-Nemesis"

We make small talk as we warm up. The inversion is gorgeous. Weather is perfect. Keep your enemies close.

I lose ground as we run around the roundhouse, as expected. I am satisfied with how quickly I get into my skis, although he is already out of sight.

The first descent is screaming fast. Inexplicably, he is standing up - I blow by in my tuck.

Transition is OK. I win some and lose some with the people in my vicinity. Attack the first climb, trying to reel in the slower Canadian team skin suits. I look down and my skin tip has come off the ski. Damnit. People are on my heels, I step aside and loop it back on, but I already know this is not going to end well. Ten strides later, it fails again, catastrophically.

I switch skins, but I have lost the main pack and with it my nemesis I am sure. I do what I can the rest of the climb but make little progress. I enter transition with one full-length-not-very-sticky skin, and one too-short-and-entirely-too-sticky skin.  I know I have to switch each ski with a different technique, but in my hypoxic state I apply the techniques to the opposite skis.  Embarrassed, I neglect to focus as I begin the descent of the WhiteWall, and stack it up.  Twice.  And then again, in the powder bowl below the face.  I do not realize it at the time, but I lose my other full length skin in one of these unplanned changes in orientation.

I am skiing like a sissy and hemorrhaging time, but my legs cannot take this.  It is a vicious feedback loop, with tentative skiing using more muscles, and these tired legs making me more nervous again.

I make it to the checkpoint and have an atrocious transition, at one point using my teeth to separate the too-sticky skin from itself.  I have also realized my unintentional gear jettisoning, so am back to the original faulty full length skin, and am still mismatched between skis.  I start up the climb, and... it's him.  Struggling on the steep and twisty skintrack.  I assume he had similar difficulty on the descent.  Amazing.   I make the pass and do my best to get out of sight.

The long, gradual groomer brings differences in fitness to light as he makes a strong pass just prior to the bootpack.  And then it's the same thing again as we enter lap two.  The gap waxes and wanes as we pass through fitness based terrain and technically dominated terrain.  At the bottom of the big climb he is up ahead and I am feeling deja-vu with this race last year (and the previous lap). I begin closing the gap down again through the treed skintrack, but do not quite make it before the groomer.

I realize, short of a catastrophic gear failure, the battle is lost.  I continue up, and then the full extent of his treachery becomes obvious - he has bootpacked the final 150m of the skintrack. The same as last year.  I cannot believe it. Over two hours into the race at this point and already struggling with a failing skin, this is a devastating blow.

Minutes later my race is over, leaving an aftertaste of disappointment and bitterness.

Twice now this same show has played out.  I will see you next time, arch-nemesis.  And I will have my vengeance, in that race or the next.