Fat Pursuit Preamble

I never write pre-race posts because I like knowing the outcome first so I can adopt the appropriate tone in my blog - insouciance or wry resignation or casual swagger, it all depends on how I finish. And when I was younger I was so calculatedly apathetic about race preparation, often to the point of self-sabotage, because it wasn't cool to try, and it was cool to do well effortlessly. 

But with the Fat Pursuit, I wanted to write about the run-up to the race, just as I've wanted to set myself up for as much success as possible, ever since I got the wild hare to register.

This came about because I'm writing a book with Jay Petervary, another scary admission that, by putting out into the world, holds me accountable to really do it. It seemed essential in order to capture the JayP zeitgeist that I finally attend the Fat Pursuit, the winter event he's been putting on for ten years. At first I figured I'd volunteer, because I like volunteering and because I have very little patience for fat biking. At its best I find it kind of boring, and if the conditions are bad it's an interminable slog. 

But then I jokingly posited to myself that I could skate ski the 60K. And then I asked Jay and he confirmed that skates are definitely the appropriate ski choice over classic, which is good because I don't classic ski. And while the Fat Pursuit, in particular the 200K, is notorious for rugged conditions, negative 20 or two inches of snow an hour or 30 mph wind or sometimes all three the same awful year, Jay said the new 60K course is more protected from the elements and is almost guaranteed to have a pretty decent groom on it (in other words, ideally it won't be 35 miles of wallowing through deep snow on improper equipment). 

So I registered. Committing was made easier by a very healthy coupon code.

Sitting with Jay for hours at a time learning about his experiences in the ultra-endurance world and his psychological inability to quit ridiculous races makes me feel sheepish that I've treated this paltry event with such single-mindedness and nervousness, but we're not all full of sheer New Jersey cussedness, I guess. 

I haven't done a ton of miles because the backcountry skiing has been phenomenal, and because our groomed tracks are pretty short so distance skating requires aggressive hamster-wheeling, but I did polish off an 18-mile day last month and figured if I could finish that just feeling a little sore and sweaty, I could probably schlep my way through double the distance.

Since I learned to skate in 2021, I've been watching Youtube to try and improve my still amateurish form, and this winter I started doing fifteen push-ups a day because my poling sucks. Chrissy is the only person who will skate with me, and is willing to listen to me talk about technique ad nauseum. 

My equipment is old and screams rental gear, and I haven't gone out and bought XC-specific apparel, the wind-paneled tights and streamlined hip pack and overkill insulated leather gloves, so I just wear what is essentially my skinning outfit. Skating is way too hot of an activity for the cute little beanies and puffy jackets people wear at the track, so I wear a ball cap and t-shirt and bike gloves, and weather-resistant vented softshell pants that seem more versatile than tights, I guess. And I'm bringing a skimo race pack, with loud neon Dynafit accents, for emergency gear.

To sum it up, I look like a waddling baggy dork but that's kind of how I ski too, so I've resigned myself to not fitting in at the Alta track, land of 65-year-old speed demons. 

Fortunately, there are very few skiers signed up to race, but one woman whose Instagram bio includes "cross country skier" is coming, so there goes my shot of a calm cool and collected start, not that that was ever likely - I am and have always been a first-ten-miles hustler who always blows up after three hours. I'm usually able to recover, enough, and this summer and winter have marked some of the fittest seasons of my life, at least out west, so it's fun to lean into that old lady strength I've been accruing. 

The Island Park forecast looks surprisingly good, gentle snow through the night clearing up to an overcast day just below freezing, but, as JayP warns, you can never trust the forecast in eastern Idaho. So I'm packing all the necessary outerwear as well as some ingenious (maybe?) skins for skate skis, thanks to Cy the inveterate tinkerer and preparer. 

All in all, I'm in no way apathetic about this. I'm really excited to take on a challenge that I'm not sure I can do, because isn't that what makes sports so dang rad?