One Step at a Time: Surviving the Grand Traverse

From fear to finish line: how a freezing, 14-hour ski race reminded me what I’m made of

It’s 23 degrees and dark and Crested Butte mountain is lit only by the headlamps of the 500 or so other bat-shit crazy people who have the same idea of “fun” as I do. I was adorned head to toe with unfamiliar ultra light gear and enough food, water and survival gear to spend the night (what the actual fuck?) as the race officials made it very clear that no one was coming to get you. I was surrounded by people dressed in spandex who all looked like they knew what they were doing. I have a love/hate for doing hard things and proving to myself I can do something even when my mind had doubts. This race, for me, is the cream of the crop as it comes to physical challenges. It’s 11:55 pm. My heart is pounding. The energy around me is palpable. I tried to sleep for a few hours during the day, but my adrenaline (and anxiety) had other plans for me. My partner Dave and I listen to the “Blessing of the Freeheelers”, the iconic send off ceremony for the Grand Traverse, before we head out into the dark to attempt our 40 mile ski tour from Crested Butte to Aspen. Mission: Do not die, and finish, hopefully not last. 

I think this is the first race I’ve signed up for where I was genuinely scared I might not finish. It didn’t help that during my training that winter I didn’t make the cut off time on the Gothic Mountain Tour and had an 8 mile walk of shame as a result. I didn’t feel prepared, but it was go time. This race had been on my bucket list for years, and the feeling of aliveness I had the moment before we took off was my reminder for why I do this stuff. I was pumped to just be a part of this event, now I needed get my ass to the top of Star Pass by the 7am cutoff to have a chance of making it to the finish in Aspen. By my calculations, if we kept a steady pace of 2.5-3mph and had no gear malfunctions, we could avoid the walk of shame back to Crested Butte.

Conditions were not ideal. Overnight was clear, but windy and the hours in the night went by surprisingly quickly. I felt good. We were climbing steady and seemingly going to make the cut off with enough time. My friends and family wrote notes which I tucked into my pocket. 14 notes. I could open one note per hour at the pace I was going and these little notes saved me. My other secret weapon was chocolate chip sea salt cookies. Keep eating, keep hydrating, one step at a time.

I remember the moment we approached the base of Star Pass. It was the coldest part of the morning, still dark, and all I could see were zig zags of headlamps heading up the pass. This was it- 1.8 miles and 1,500 feet of vertical gain. I could see the top and I had a little over an hour to get it done. 6:38am, we made it to the top with 22 minutes to spare. I had a huge grin and gave my partner Dave a hug. “We’re going to Aspen” I told him. We had made the cutoff and the only way to go from there was forward. It was going to be tough, but forward, not backward, was the only choice.

After skiing down Star Pass, we “warmed up” at the fire pit before we began the second half of the race. This is when it all broke down for me. The adrenaline wore off, the wind and snow picked up, my body got really cold and I would gag any time I tried to swallow food. Even my secret weapon chocolate chip sea salt cookies didn’t stand a chance. I was clearly not thriving. The next 6 or so hours were some of the toughest. I tried to drink as many calories as I could and my biggest challenge was keeping my mind focused and in the moment. I knew if I allowed my mind to suffer, my body would break down even more.

Life is hard sometimes. Whether it’s this race, a CrossFit workout, coming out to friends and family, going through an injury, giving birth, or whatever your hard might be in the moment. I am often reminded that I can only handle what is right in front of me and that the only way to grow confidence is by facing the thing that scares me with the next step, the next rep, or the next word. 

Our bodies are so much more capable than our minds. I wasn’t sure I had 6 more hours in me, but I was certain I could take one more step, find one more breath and did just that for the next 6 hours. Dave and I crossed that finish line in Aspen at 2:23pm after racing for 14 1/2 hours through the night and through the storm. I did not die, I did in fact finish, and I was not dead last- I’d call that a successful mission.

-Michele Cooper