I’m happy to say the phrase, “Once frostbitten, twice shy,” does NOT apply to my experience at the 2023 Leadville 24 Hour Ultra Ski Equinox race. Held at Mount Massive Golf Course in Leadville, CO—the highest town in the USA (10,152 feet)—this was the fourth year of the event that boasts the title of Colorado’s toughest Nordic ski race. It was also the second year in a row that I completed a full 24 hours of skiing at the event—this time without frostbite.
At last year’s event, I finished with a black left big toe and narrowly missed losing it. My toe was saved thanks to speedy hospital shuttling by friends who drove me to the nearest emergency room (roughly 50 miles away in Salida, CO), and more friends who later drove me an additional two hours to a specialty burn and frostbite center in Denver. I received treatment at 1 AM (a six-hour tPA-infusion) that saved my toe and luckily the doctors did not have to “AmpuTAYTE” as a friend so cleverly put it. The experience left me up for nearly 48 hours of continuous skiing and toe-saving efforts, yet some part of me knew I wanted to do this race again. Even though I completed my goal of 24 hours of skiing, I felt that I had cheated my body to do it. This year, frostbite was not an option. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this without injuring myself. I knew it would take a much smarter and less macho approach.
Going Farther Means Tuning Into Your Body and Accepting Your Limits
How did I find the confidence to toe the line (excuse the pun) at a race that nearly claimed my toe and likely would have ended the rest of my competitive skiing and running career?
Going into this event, I told myself (and friends and family worried about me doing this race again) that I would not race the way I did last year. It was last year’s mentality of “go, go, go” and grinding through everything that resulted in nearly losing my big toe. I rushed through every aid station, didn’t change boots (big mistake), and overall spent little time resting, warming up during the night, and resetting mentally.
This year I went into the race with an attitude of skiing strong—or as best as I could—every 13-kilometer loop. After each loop, I would evaluate how my body was feeling and if I needed to, take off my skis and go into the warm ski lodge to reset. If I was cold, tired, or dropped my pace, I would accept it and tell myself, “What do I need to do to fix this?” I took the race one lap at a time.
The first six hours (roughly 100 kilometers into the race) I moved quickly, changed my upper body base layer once and ate mostly energy bars, Nutella, and bananas, and drank electrolyte mixes. The skiing was fast and my body felt good. When the night hit, everything changed. My new race mentality of taking it one lap at a time and listening to my body was put to the test.
Photo: Peter Maksimow
Colder Temps, Warmer Toes
In 2022, the temperature low in Leadville was around 15 degrees Fahrenheit, whereas this year the night reached -20 degrees F with the windchill. I remember being halfway through a loop when sunset hit this year. As soon as the sun disappeared, the temperature shifted drastically. My hands instantly became so cold I couldn’t even hold my poles. I skied the rest of the lap with my poles tucked under my armpits. When I arrived back at the lodge, I thought to myself, “Wow, is this the kind of cold I’m going to have to deal with for the rest of the night?”
In half a loop I experienced a bitter cold that was worse than anything I felt last year. I was sure there was no way that the me from last year would have even made it an hour past sunset without frostbite on ALL of my toes. After warming my hands back up in the lodge (and making sure my toes were fine), I refocused and asked myself, “What do I need to do to make sure I stay warm for another loop?”
I changed from gloves to colder-weather “lobster” mittens and put hand warmers inside them. I also had three pairs of boots—one pair warming up on a boot dryer and an extra pair just in case. I stuffed toe warmers into the front of the boots every lap during the night to warm up my toes, which were taking the brunt of the cold from the unrelenting north wind. The wind was especially prominent on the exposed golf course fairways just before reaching the lodge and also on a roughly quarter-mile downhill stretch where I hit faster speeds that allowed me to coast—a nice reprieve for the lungs, but not the toes!
As a staff member of the American Trail Running Association (ATRA), I can attest that one of our most popular recurring Trail News articles during winter months is, “The Hidden Dangers of Toe Warmers” written by trail runner and snowshoer Maureen E. Roberts. However, during this race, under these extreme conditions, I admit that I survived on toe warmers. I joked with a friend during the ski race who had also read this article that I might end up back at the burn center in Denver, not because of frostbite but because of a toe-warmer burn. I was glad to still have my sense of humor during the night…and my toes. If you haven’t read this article it does have great advice, but in this instance of an unruly cold Leadville Spring Equinox night, toe warmers were an essential part of my journey to finish this race with all of my toes!
“I don’t think anyone can truly appreciate the saving grace of a sunrise until you spend the entire night fighting to stay awake, warm, and pushing your body to its limits.” Photo: Peter Maksimow
Wax On, “Stay Hard”…And Warm
Aside from managing how my body was responding to the cold, another critical factor was dealing with how my skis were affected by temperature changes. In nordic skiing, ski waxes are used to optimize performance and increase ski glide on snow. There are particular waxes for different temperature zones of snow. Not having enough wax (wax can wear off after hours of skiing), or the wrong wax for the temperature can have drastic effects on ski glide. I learned the effects of improper waxing firsthand during this race.
Around 2 AM, I noticed myself pushing harder with my legs, driving my poles into the ground with more force (so much force I actually snapped a pole in half), and throwing more of my body weight into each glide—yet still, it seemed I was going nowhere. I couldn’t get more than a few inches of glide on each ski no matter how much force I generated from my body. I am definitely more of a runner than a skier and with my limited knowledge of ski waxing, I couldn’t figure out why my skis weren’t gliding.
I clocked my slowest loop of the entire race, just over two hours, nearly twice as long as any other loop. “I had completed a loop in 41 minutes earlier in the day, how could I ski so slow when I felt physically fine?” Me from last year would have pressed on, worried only about how slow the lap was and trying to make up time by rushing out for another loop as quickly as possible.
This year, I thought to myself, “That was slow, but I really don’t think it’s because I’m too tired. It has to be the skis. How do I fix them?” Blue wax was what I knew to be the best wax for cold conditions, but I questioned if perhaps there was another wax that I didn’t know about that would suit these extra frigid temperatures. When I arrived at the lodge for another loop, I expressed my concerns to the owner of the golf course, Dan Batwinas, the mastermind of this event and hardcore human who was standing outside during the night waxing racer’s skis in subzero temperatures without wearing gloves.
I borrowed a friend’s pair of skis for a lap while Batwinas waxed my skis with what he called “Polar Wax.” The name is fitting because it turns out the average 2023 March temperatures in the North Pole, Alaska was comparable to the night of my ski race. After the waxing, my next lap felt smooth and my times were back to normal (or normal for tired night skiing). Taking time to deal with issues, physical or technical, and doing so with a level head, allowed me to push harder and overcome obstacles that may have otherwise ended my race or drained me mentally.
I estimate that when comparing my race in 2023 to 2022, I took at least an hour of additional time in the lodge recuperating, changing boots, clothes, waxing skis, etc, and yet I still finished this year’s event having skied one more kilometer than last year (272 vs. 273). I had an attitude of accepting my humanness under tough conditions, while always maintaining the intention of moving forward. Thanks to this mental shift, I skied farther, under harsher conditions, and did so without ending up in an ICU bed.
Some might argue my racing strategy in 2023 was less macho than just sticking it out and staying tough, or “staying hard” as the motivational military and ultramarathon running figure David Goggins would say. I wouldn’t put it past Goggins to finish this entire event shirtless and without changing boots once (a slight exaggeration, but for those who follow Goggin’s Instagram you’d expect nothing less). However, I think Goggins would agree with me that it’s always better to be real with yourself.
I listened to my pains instead of ignoring them, yet, I still chose to endure and overcome them. I accepted what challenges were thrown my way—cold body, lack of sleep, muscular fatigue, sweaty boots, windchill, ski technicalities, and so on—and I figured out how to press on and minimize how each obstacle would slow down my forward progress. I imagined myself adopting a similar mentality to an expert mountain climber such as Reinhold Messner or Jimmy Chin. Some days, the conditions are too tough, the route too risky and the mountain wins. Even the best climbers know when to turn around. The true test of spirit is not to press on (which would likely mean death), but to respect the challenge and your limits. Accept the defeat or failure to reach the summit and kindle a fire in your soul to return as many times as it takes until you reach that summit. Live for the constant searching of that next step or opportunity that takes you towards your goals, instead of for that one moment of blazing glory.
Photo: Peter Maksimow
What’s The Story? Morning Glory and The Joy of Friends
One might wonder why we do such things as skiing for 24 hours. The simple answer is that through the hardships of an endurance test such as this race, we encounter some of the most beautiful things life has to offer. I don’t think anyone can truly appreciate the saving grace of a sunrise until you spend the entire night fighting to stay awake, warm, and pushing your body to its limits. I remember turning off my headlamp after nearly twelve hours of skiing in the dark, feeling the sun’s rays warm my body as intensely as if I was lying shirtless on a sandy beach in Mexico. My skis were gliding faster on the softened snow without any additional effort—yet another gift from the sunrise. It was a moment of rebirth so powerful that whatever doubts I had about finishing the race were completely gone. I am reminded of this quote from Bram Stoker’s Dracula film: “No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.”
Another reason for undertaking a challenge like this is because extreme endurance tests can be some of the best-shared experiences you can have with other people. I would not have finished this race if it wasn’t for my crew of friends literally spoon-feeding me Nutella, keeping my clothes and boots dry, or bringing me Yerba Mate bars all the way from Manitou Springs, CO (122 miles away!) to keep me caffeine-hyped through the night. And a shout out to the amazing Leadville ski community who showed their support for me, including a friend who lent me a pair of 2023 Atomic Racing skis (a vast leap in performance benefits from my usual ex-rental shop skis that are too short for me and which I rarely wax). These “Supersonic Atomics” were a game changer, especially after receiving not one but two coats of wax from Batwinas, who did his best to make sure I could retain my glide through the entire night of North Pole-like skiing. Even with my limited ski knowledge, I had expert skiers in the Leadville community who were there to share their knowledge and give me their support. I can’t thank my friends enough for what they did for me in this race.
Skiing for a certain time or distance really does mean much by itself, but it does when you have the right place to do it, and a community to get you through it, share the experience with, and to do it for.
Curious to learn more about how nordic skiing can benefit your trail running? Check out my article here.
Also check out some of my tips for 24-hour endurance competitions, inspired by my 2022 Leadville Equinox Ultra Ski race experience
Youtube videos on Nordic skiing https://www.youtube.com/@ATRAtrailrunner/search?query=skiing
