Unnata Aerial Yoga: Flyers Taking Flight

Linda C

The first time I ever heard of aerial yoga was from a former colleague's Facebook post. It was a selfie she took in the class while suspended upside down. It seemed a little crazy, but also possibly fun. At the time my concern was more that yoga class etiquette should not have allowed her to have her phone with her, let alone allowing her to take a photo while suspended upside down – how un-Zen! The second time I encountered aerial yoga was last year when the Flyers had a yoga recovery day at Sacred Sounds Yoga (located on the second floor of 163 Bleeker Street).  

Flyers member and studio owner Stephanie T gave us a tour of the studio after our core yoga class, and part of that tour included a peek into the room used for the aerial yoga classes. Hanging from fixtures on the ceiling were beautiful blue silk cloths that were at the time tied together in storage until the next aerial yoga class. After that, I attended other yoga classes at Sacred Sounds and would occasionally think of giving aerial yoga a try, but it was always a passing thought. I had some reservations  ––  after all, regular feet on the ground yoga is challenging for me :) But then it happened, a Flyers recovery yoga session was scheduled for June 8th and it was going to be an aerial yoga class. Fate was calling. I signed up!

Officially, the aerial yoga class is called Unnata Aerial Yoga. What exactly is Unnata Aerial Yoga? Well, the course description explains that "Unnata is the Sanskrit word for "elevated," meaning both elevated in spirit and physically elevated. With the weight of the body supported, students learn how to achieve proper postural alignment through relaxation rather than effort, enhancing a relaxed and peaceful state of mind as well."  

This time when I walked into the aerial yoga room, the beautiful blue silks were down and we could see that they formed a loop anchored to the ceiling. The silks were very welcoming, like a swing or a hammock. Some people were a little more adventurous than I was and popped into the silks swinging and laying back in them, but I’m a Capricorn and pragmatism is my middle name. I wasn’t going to do anything until I had some instructions.     

Unlike traditional yoga classes, our mats for this class were arranged diagonally across the room, one mat per person under each loop of silk. The silks were cool to the touch.  Our instructor, Cynthia, went around adjusting the height of the silk loops as needed for each person  ––  the silk loop should hang to a spot between the pelvic bone and belly button. Once everyone's silk loop was properly adjusted the class began with some traditional yoga poses on the mat as a warm up. Then it was time to take flight. 

Cynthia, Our Instructor, Getting Us Set Up

The first pose incorporating the silks was an elevated downward facing dog. It sounded easy enough and some did take to it rather easily, but I had difficulties getting the loop in the right position along my pelvis to support my weight so that I could come off the ground. The idea was to get off the ground and reach down and forward, while keeping the legs back and down (as if to form a floating triangle).  

Debbie P and Luiza S

As recommended, I used a blanket placed over the silk loop to help better place the silk loop along my pelvis and relieve some of the pressure. I felt the pressure of the silk on my pelvis and with Cynthia's assistance I was suddenly up and reaching forward in an elevated downward facing dog. I was just a few inches off the ground, but it felt wonderfully free and much higher. The elevation allowed me to extend my arms out long without the pressure of my weight on them (as I normally experience in a traditional downward facing dog pose).  

For a few moments, I felt very free. I took breaks from the pose at times to relieve the pressure where the silk loop was pulling against my pelvis and possibly because of moments of fear as my mind screamed that my feet were off the ground and I was likely to lose control. There was a regular Unnata practitioner on a mat near me who seemed to hang forever in the pose. But I was new to this and I was taking it easy.  

Next up was a reverse lunge using the silk loop for support of the upper body. The silk loop wrapped around under our arms and along the widest part of our ribs while we stretched one leg back in a reverse lunge. I could feel my hips open up more than I've ever experienced in a "grounded" reverse lunge  –– my physical therapist would be impressed!  

Dave K and Pei A -- Disobeying Directions

Then came some of what we were hoping for, but also probably fearing.... inversions! You'll have to take a class to learn how to go from a seated swing position to have your legs wrapped around the silks and your head and arms hanging down towards the floor. The most challenging part for me was actually getting into the silk loop to sit in it like a swing - a seemingly insurmountable obstacle that I was able to overcome with the assistance of two yoga blocks to stand on. Once I was in the swing, it was a snap for me to get into the inverted position. It was exhilarating. Of course, Cynthia advised that the rush of blood to our heads would give us a natural sense of excitement and it did  –– a yoga equivalent of a runner’s high?  

Lara K Enjoys Her "Yoga High"

Coming out of the pose occasionally to relieve the blood that was rushing to my head in the inversion, I looked around to see our fellow Flyers in their inversions. One warning, should you take this class, don't stay inverted for too long at any one time as some began to feel a little nauseous from inversions held for long periods of time.

A few more different poses aided by the silks and soon it was time to wind down. We were in the silks once again, but this time in restful cocoons. Each silk loop is nine feet wide and served as luxurious hammocks. We were completely enveloped in the blue cool fabric swaying ever so slightly as we were lulled to a peaceful calm in the silky cocoons.  Sheltered from the outside world, we enjoyed some restful minutes suspended above our mats. Then it was time to emerge from the silks and come back to earth, back on to the ground where we ended the class with some traditional yoga poses. 

There were some wonderfully fun moments in the class and the cocoon was very soothing, but there were moments that I found challenging. I'm still relatively new to yoga, having attended less than a dozen classes, and Unnata aerial yoga didn't require any special knowledge from traditional yoga. It was yoga, but a very different experience. The days following the class, I found that I had some slight bruising on the sides of my pelvis where the silk rested when I was in the elevated downward facing dog pose. However, I note that I bruise relatively easily and some of the other Flyers I spoke to did not experience any bruising. 

Will I try aerial yoga again?  Yes, I think I will. For a runner who pounds on the ground for hours at a time, the time floating in the silks was a treat. 

By the way, if you’re thinking about taking a selfie while participating in an aerial yoga class or if you’re concerned that your aerial yoga attempts will be photographed by selfie-takers, note that Sacred Sounds does not allow photographs to be taken during class. Namaste.

-Linda C

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New York Flyers MTP? Heck YEAH!

Tran L

“Are we suppose to be running at 8:06 pace?!” I asked Keila over the strong headwind that was a constant throughout most of the race.

“Yes. We need to make up the time we lost over the last few miles because of the winds!”

And so I ran, and ran, and ran, with Keila and Paul, the 3:40 pacers, through the last 5k of the New Jersey Marathon, cutting through the wind. Mile 24 went by. I was tired.  My legs were heavy through Mile 25. It took a lot of convincing to keep them churning. I couldn’t afford to lose my pacers. At some point I saw the finish banner. It was so far away. My legs were ready to give out.  Eventually I felt my left calf on the cusp of spasming, wanting to revolt against the duress. Please, please… just a little more.   

That's Me! Giving Chase at the NJ Marathon May 2014

Paul was in my face, yelling at me to keep running hard. I knew he meant to motivate me but it was incredibly distracting. I wanted shove him away and yell back at him to leave me alone but couldn’t afford to waste my energy and focus. I kept looking ahead, forcing my legs to keep moving. I was finally able to see the finish line itself a few hundred meters away.

I tried to kick it to the finish but felt myself going slower and slower with every step. My legs were moving but it felt like I was at a standstill. I saw Keila and Paul getting ahead of me, sprinting to the finish line, each step taking them farther away from me. I doggedly chased after them and crossed the finish line with a gap of a few seconds. 

Still Doggedly Chasing....Approaching Mile 26

I was exhausted from the race and I was excited with the time. But on top of the exhaustion and excitement was the sense of a hard earned accomplishment.  

Smiles for a Hard Earned Accomplishment :)

For my result, I owed it to all that came with the Flyers Winter Marathon Training Program (MTP), our Run SMART Project coach Brian Rosetti, and the Flyers "Winter Warriors."

I eagerly signed up for the Flyers Winter MTP after getting good results from the fall MTP. The program started in the dead cold of January, around the time of the first polar vortex, earning the group the title of Winter Warriors for the next 15 weeks. 

We were each provided with our own custom training program that that included a weekly group speedwork session on Wednesday nights. Of course, every Wednesday night happened to be the coldest night of the week. Despite that the Winter Warriors diligently gathered at the Running Company for Coach Brian’s explanation and instructions for the evening’s workout and then headed out to a desolate Central Park to train.  

Each group session started out with a couple of easy warm-up miles and closed out the evening with the same for cool-down. The easy pace before and after the intense training gave us the opportunity to catch up and bond as a group.

For each weekly workout we were separated into sub-groups based on our VDOTs. The VDOT is a calculation, using Jack Daniel's Running Calculator, of how much oxygen the runner can utilize to create energy during intense exercise, and is used to determine how fast each MTP member should run each of their training runs including at the weekly group speedwork session.

This was where we put the pedal to the metal, where Brian got to push us at a pace that sometimes felt like it was beyond what we thought were our limits. Hunched over, gasping for air between each interval there was Brian reminding us that we would thank him for the pain come race day. These group runs served as a motivating agent for me through the rest of the program, especially when the outside conditions were far from ideal.

The Winter Warriors was a group of incredibly supportive individuals with a love for running and who shared a common goal of running our best in our target races. Through the challenging sessions and the harsh winter conditions, the Winter Warriors developed a camaraderie that made the sessions fun and exciting. We were cheerleaders for each other. This was clearly highlighted through the words of encouragement and cheers with each email chain that developed when it came time for our races. 

I know I wasn’t alone in stalking those who ran Boston, tracking their every step from Hopkinton to the finish line via the Boston Marathon app. For my New Jersey Marathon, I had signed up to get text updates on my running mates even though we were running the same race. I didn’t include myself and only found out my official time when Debbie P sent me a congratulatory text message with my finish time soon after I finished.  Even after the winter MTP officially wrapped up, the Winter Warriors were still cognizant of those who ran their races weeks after.

The Winter Warriors gathered for a reunion at the beginning of May to celebrate our results and all the efforts that went into training. It had been more than 3 weeks since the last group session, and I missed them.  At one point we went around the table taking turns to express what we were grateful for with regards to the winter MTP. This is what I am grateful for: 

·         Brian Rosetti, our Run SMART coach. Brian pushed me beyond my perceived limits with each and every workout. And he was the voice of reason when I had a last minute debate with myself over which shoes to wear for this marathon.

·         The Run SMART Project. Without my custom training program I would have been lost.  Undoubtedly, I would have caved in to the call of my warm comfy home instead of going out to log my weekly miles through the brutal winter. 

·         The Winter Warriors as a group. They were my motivators and supporters. They made those Wednesday nights fun despite the less than desired conditions through most of the program.  This was especially so with Pei A, our NY Flyers Treasurer. My subgroup started out as a group of 5 but through some injuries Pei was my constant training partner. She kept me from going too fast or too slow. I think I kept her in check as well. It was just right.

Running with Pei A. at the Oakley Mini 10K

My official time at the NJ Marathon was 3:39:32, a BQ and a PR of just under 15 minutes! But this is really the little cherry on top of my ice cream sundae.  It was the journey through the winter MTP that made the result all the more sweet and rewarding.  

-Tran L

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Dynamic Duos: Father and Son

Max D. and David D.

Father's Perspective 

When Max was in kindergarten, he drew a picture of himself cycling along as I ran a loop in Central Park. That picture captured the beginning of what has developed into a wonderful aspect of our relationship. And it has expanded over the years so that Max now joins my running gang when he is home from school (whether or not I am around). 

As a father, I enjoy having opportunities for alone time with each of our sons (mostly skiing with our younger son James). Running has provided a valuable connection for Max and me so that even when he is away at school we can collaborate on his or my running goals (for me, Berlin this fall). It has added a valuable dimension to our already strong relationship that hopefully will continue for many years.

Son's Perspective 

When I was a kid, I always wanted to run a marathon. I had seen my Dad run so many marathons and cheered him on thinking it was the coolest and toughest thing a person could do. The distance, the pain, and then every time, as soon as it was over, the desire to start training to run another one. When I was little, my brother and I used to ride our bicycles while my dad ran, but I always thought about running myself.  

Father's Perspective 

Max and I started regularly running together during a vacation in Hawaii. There was no prompting from me. As I was heading out to run with a friend he asked if he could join us. “Why not?” 

I thought he'd make it a mile or two. But four miles later he was still sailing along. That was about seven years ago (he was 13 at the time) and Max has been running ever since.  

In 2011, when Max was 17 years old, he told me he wanted to run a marathon. I thought “really?!?” I ran my first marathon when I was 32 (not much for distances when I was young). 

We agreed to aim for the 2012 Philadelphia marathon, which I intended to run with some friends. I worked out a training plan and we ran together through much of that summer. Max headed off to his freshman year of college and had to do many long runs by himself. But I had no doubt he would stick to the training schedule – he is quite goal oriented.  

Son's Perspective 

One day I asked to run with my Dad in the park, so he took me on a reservoir loop.  And I hated it.  It was so hard, I was out of breath, I couldn't imagine doing it for any longer.  And yet one day on vacation in Hawaii I thought “Well that was a while ago maybe I'll give it another shot,” and all of a sudden it wasn't terrible, and I really made it the whole way.  

So when we got back to the city I started going on Saturday runs with my Dad and his running group and that was really the start of both my running and the close bond I have with my Dad over it. At that time it was just weekly running, but then after some cross country in high school I started running daily with him on school breaks, and it is really something that has let us remain close even when I'm off at school. 

New England Relay Race

It wasn't until I graduated high school that marathon running seemed possible. Many people thought I was insane to juggle marathon training with my first semester of college and being on the crew team. I just kept thinking that that was exactly what inspired me about my Dad, the fact that running was just something that happened before the start of the rest of the day.  It didn't matter what else was going on, there was the commitment to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to get in the day's training.  

And so I got in all my distance going into Philadelphia, although most of it was a full minute slower than I was planning on running the marathon, and I definitely didn't feel like adding a 10K to the end of my 20 mile training runs.  

Father's Perspective 

On the day of the marathon, Max told me he was concerned that he could not hold a pace of 8 minutes per mile (our agreed upon pace). I tried to keep him calm and we headed off with me holding Max back from starting out too quickly.  

At mile 21 or so he looked loose and relaxed so I told him to go crazy – and off he went, running about a 7 minute pace for the final 5 miles.  

That race was definitely one of my fondest father-son memories. It also was likely the last time we will race together – he is now much faster than I am. Max has now completed three marathons (New York in 2013 and Buffalo just recently) and is planning another assault on Philadelphia this fall. 

At Niagra Falls After the Buffalo Marathon

Son's Perspective 

And so the morning of the marathon I told my Dad of my concerns and he just told me to trust my training and that I would be fine. I, and probably he, at this point had no doubt that I would be the slower of the two of us. And the Phildelphia Marathon that year had mistakenly placed the 2-mile mark a little late, and so when we finished the 2nd mile I remember thinking, “We've slowed down already? I can't imagine going faster,” but then we kept going, and it was really great to just be running with my Dad. In a lot of ways it felt like we were just doing a loop in the park together like usual. Everyone had told me that at some point I was going to hit a wall, but at mile 20 I realized that I felt great, and that with 10K left I was going to make it.  

I'm not sure what happened, but my Dad just told me to take off and there I went from like 8 minute miles down to 7 minute miles and finished stronger than I've almost ever felt during a race. That was probably the first day I had ever finished a race ahead of my Dad (and not just like a foot ahead because I sprinted out with 10 feet to go like he used to let me when we ran some NYRR races together when I was 13).  

And it was incredible because for the first time I didn't just feel like my Dad was taking me along running, but that we were running together. And for a moment I got to experience what I had spectated so many times and I finally got it. It felt amazing.  I'll never forget the look of pride on my Dad's face, it made all the weeks of running alone at school completely worth it.  

At the 2012 Philly Marathon

And really, by training for that race, and since then, I really feel like running is something special we just have together, and that no matter what else is going on it's something we'll always have to bond over.  Even if I don't call home for a while we are always in touch about training and it's a way I feel connected to my Dad that I can't imagine not having.

-David D and Max D

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Journey to the North Pole Marathon

Howard C

"I understand that the North Pole, and Arctic Ice Pack, is over 2,000 km across and will be desolate of many western standard rescue facilities. I understand that I will be lodging on an active ice floe that is 6 to 12 feet thick on top of the Arctic Ocean, and that sudden cracks (leads), pressure ridges, and ocean currents can expose the ocean at any time; that temperatures in April can be below –40 degrees Celsius, with wind chills to – 100 degrees Celsius; that bad weather and aircraft malfunction could strand the expedition for many days; that prolonged exposure to the polar environment can cause loss of fingers, toes, and body parts due to frostbite, or loss of life due to many causes including hypothermia, dehydration or even drowning or polar bear attacks…” (From the liability waiver for the North Pole Marathon - npmarathon.com)

This year was the 12th annual North Pole Marathon. There were 48 race participants. On April 7, 2014, we met for a prerace briefing in the Norwegian town of Longyearbyen, which is about 830 miles from the North Pole. It is pretty much the northernmost outpost of civilization in the world. Here, in the comfort of a conference room at a Radisson Blu hotel, we learned about the incredible logistics that are involved in setting up the North Pole camp and marathon course.

Each year in late March/early April, a private, Russian camp (Camp Barneo) is set up on the Arctic ice near the North Pole. This time of year is specifically selected because it is during the sunlit and “warmer” season, but the sea ice is still thick and stable enough to safely land a passenger plane. Camp has to be set up from scratch every year because it is not possible to build a permanent camp on floating and moving chunks of ice in the Arctic Ocean. First, a helicopter flies from northern Russia to scout a suitable area to set up camp and build an airstrip. 

The helicopter only has enough fuel for a one way trip, so the crew lands and waits for a cargo plane to parachute down more crew and supplies, including a bulldozer/snow plow for preparing the airstrip. Technical (test) landings on the airstrip are then made with the passenger plane that will eventually ferry in the tourists. Once the test landings are successful, the camp is open for business. North Pole Marathon runners apparently make up the largest contingent of visitors. There are other tourists, however, who come in for trips such as ski treks, dog sledding treks and helicopter trips to the geographic North Pole. Over the years, we learned, there have been some interesting visitors to camp. For example, British broadcaster Sir David Attenborough is frequently there. Prince Harry was recently there with his security detail. And a few years ago, an American adult film entertainer apparently decided to have her wedding at the North Pole.

Dog Sledding on the Arctic Tundra near Longyearbyen

We were next warned abundantly about the dangers of exposure to the extremely cold conditions. Exposed skin freezes in a very short time in the polar regions. There was a story about a participant on the 2013 North Pole Marathon trip who had decided to strip down for a souvenir picture in camp just prior to the race. He stood on the Arctic ice for maybe a minute or so for his picture, but quickly developed severe pain and blistering on the bottom of his bare feet. He was unable to participate at all in the 2013 North Pole Marathon and, in fact, spent most of the next several weeks in a wheelchair before he ultimately made his recovery. Someone joked that he was lucky he hadn’t slipped and fallen forward onto the ice, and we had a good (somewhat nervous) laugh.

April 8, 2014

The next afternoon, after a few delays, we flew out of Longyearbyen airport for Camp Barneo. The flight took about 2.5 hours. Contrary to expectations, the landing on the Arctic ice airstrip was about as soft and smooth as any in a normal airport. When we got off the plane, the difference in the cold compared to Longyearbyen (not exactly a warm place either) was pronounced. The temperature at camp was about -30 degrees C (-22 degrees F), not including wind chill. For reference, a typical food freezer is kept at -18 degrees C (0 degrees F). Going into a food freezer at that point would have felt toasty…

We had another briefing in the communal dining tent about camp rules. There were warnings about polar bears, which were a serious danger. Camouflaged by the icy terrain, they can quietly sneak up on you. You cannot outrun them. And they were definitely around. A few days prior to our arrival, a polar bear with cubs had approached the camp and had to be scared off with flares. The word “Arctic,” we learned, is derived from the Greek word Arktos, which is “bear.” (On the other hand, Antarctica, which has no bears, literally means “no bears.”)

Inside the Tent Before the Start of the Race

 (photo courtesy of D. Andrade)

After this briefing, we were split into groups to take helicopter rides from camp to the actual geographic North Pole. At the time, Camp Barneo was floating at about 89.2 degrees north, which was about 85 km from the actual geographic North Pole. We flew over an astonishing “landscape” of pure white, mostly flat, frozen sea ice, stretching to the horizon in all directions. Here and there I could see a rift in the ice that looked like a stream, but was, in actuality, exposed Arctic Ocean, thousands of feet deep. As we were about to land at the North Pole, I was completely astonished to see tents already there, with people waving at our helicopter. This had to be the most extreme camping I had ever witnessed with my own eyes. We learned that these folks were people who were skiing “the last degree,” i.e., from 89 degrees N to the North Pole (90 degrees N). After arriving in Camp Barneo, they had been flown by helicopter to the 89th parallel. Over the course of about three days, guided by GPS, they cross country skied the last degree. They carried all their supplies, including food and tents, on sleds that they dragged. They had been camping out at the North Pole waiting for our helicopter to take them back to camp. Apparently, for some cross country skiers, skiing the last degree is a bucket list type of trip.

Camp Barneo
(photo courtesy of Camp Barneo)

After we got off the helicopter, we still had to chase the precise geographic North Pole on foot for another few minutes by GPS. There is no permanent marking for the North Pole because the North Pole exists over floating and moving pieces of Arctic sea ice. When the GPS finally registered 90'00'00.0" N, we planted a red striped pole. Everyone took the requisite photo shots. Some decided to “run around the world” by making a circle around the North Pole. One of the guys who did so stated that you had to run about 100 meters away from the Pole in order for the GPS to click through each of the time zones.

April 9, 2014

When we returned to camp, it was sometime in the early morning hours, Norwegian time, of the “next day.” The race director, accompanied by a polar bear guard, was still out marking the course. It would have been prudent to rest and sleep, but it was not easy to do so. At this time of year, there is 24 hour daylight at the North Pole. The sun just makes a circle around the horizon and does not set. We were going by Norwegian time, but this was arbitrary. My personal body clock was still mostly on Eastern Standard Time. I walked around camp and chatted with staff and other marathon participants. I knew a number of them from my 2012 Antarctic Ice Marathon trip (also organized by the same group, Polar Running Adventures). Everyone was still totally buzzed from the fact that we were at the North Pole. I visited the souvenir shop (a folding table set up in the back of the communal tent) and bought a few t-shirts that said “North Pole” on them. Euros and U.S. dollars were the preferred currencies, but other currencies were accepted as well (at a steep premium). There was a bar (the world’s northernmost bar), selling beer and spirits, including the old Russian standby, Stolichnaya.

World's Northernmost Bar

Sitting around with the staff, I heard some pretty crazy stories about prior North Pole Marathons. One year, two Australians who were soccer enthusiasts had finished the North Pole Marathon and had become a bit intoxicated. When they got to the geographic North Pole after the race, they stripped down to their underwear and boots and kicked around a soccer ball, still in an inebriated state. The next day, as they were saying their good byes, now sobered up, they approached the race director to thank him for the awesome trip and really life changing experience, etc. But they expressed a small regret that they had not been able to make it to the actual North Pole. The race director was puzzled. Someone showed them pictures of the pair in their underwear and boots kicking around a soccer ball at the North Pole. The Aussies were incredulous. They said something to the effect of “Crikies, mate! That's us! …but, where did we get a soccer ball from, we didn’t bring one!!” A mystery, apparently, that has never been solved.

After a few hours of shut eye, it was finally time for the race. The excitement was palpable. The course was 12 laps of a loop of about 3.5 kilometers (2.19 miles) around Camp Barneo. (So, no, the North Pole Marathon did not occur at the actual geographic North Pole, but at the camp, about 85 km away.) There was a medical check after each lap by the medical staff. You could also go into your tent after each lap to warm up, drink/eat, and swap into dry/warm clothes as needed. One of the paradoxical dangers of this run was actually overheating. The problem with overheating is that it can lead to excessive sweating, which in turn can completely freeze your clothes.

To start, I wore multiple layers on my head, neck and face, including ski goggles. I had four thin to medium torso layers (plus a Flyers race singlet) and two layers for the legs. I wore two layers of gloves: thin liner gloves and large weatherproof winter mitten shells. I wore three layers of socks: short compression race socks, thin liner socks, and wool winter hiking socks. For shoes, I wore a pair of standard trail runners (Skechers GoTrails) that were a half size larger than my normal size. I had tested this outfit on multiple occasions during the cold winter we had experienced in the Northeast, as well as in Longyearbyen.

At The Start
(photo courtesy of Mike King, North Pole Marathon)

My overall race strategy was simple. Go slowly, enjoy the scenery, and spend lots of time between laps in the tent to do everything I needed to do in order to survive the next lap intact. Time was not an issue, as there was no real time limit. I absolutely did not want to DNF this race and face the difficult decision of returning or not.

Racing!
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Once the race started, a few runners could be seen taking off, while the bulk of the runners took it really easy. The footing was soft, but very energy sapping. I would judge it to be roughly equivalent, energy-wise, to running in deep sand or mud. Having trained mostly on treadmills during the cold and icy winter in the Northeast, my leg muscles strained on the uneven course. It was not exactly easy to move in the direction you wanted to either. During the course of the race, I did see a few people fall. I had a couple of near falls myself. Taking a very cautious pace on the first lap, I was in the back of the pack. Michael Wardian, the famous marathoner and ultrarunner (and favorite to win the race), lapped us stragglers on our first lap.  

The main problem for me, however, was visibility. Condensation made it difficult to impossible to wear my ski googles or even my glasses. Strategies to manage condensation that had worked well back home and in Longyearbyen at -15 to -20 degrees C (+5 to -4 degrees F) did not work at -30 degrees C (-22 degrees F) in the North Pole.  After two laps, I gave up wearing glasses altogether. With my -7.0 diopter visual acuity (= nearly as blind as a bat), I had to bend over at the waist for the rest of the race (ten more laps), in order to see the ground well enough not to fall. My back ached all day.

Mid-Race
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Because I could no longer wear my goggles, there was a small part of my upper face around the eyes that was uncovered. Figuring out how to keep this little area warm took a couple of laps to perfect. Ultimately, I realized that I could shape my balaclava in a way that when I exhaled, the warm air would bounce off the balaclava and blow onto the exposed area to keep it warm. (The balaclava would actually freeze completely solid within minutes of starting each lap.) Unfortunately, the extra water vapor from my breath expedited the formation of ice crystals on my eyelashes. Thus, every few minutes or so, it was necessary to unglove a hand and melt/wipe the crystals off the eyelashes or they would literally freeze the eyelids shut. After a couple of laps, however, I figured out a system that worked and it was manageable.

Keeping Going
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Between each lap, I spent about 10 minutes in the tent to warm up, eat, drink and swap out my wet/cold/frozen items. The tent was about 55 degrees F, which felt like a sauna. My initial four layer torso outfit lasted six laps before it was so frozen that it would not thaw out between laps. I swapped my base and mid layers, and decided to don my semi-bulky insulated jacket. Some other runners, I could see, were swapping to heavy, insulated polar coats. Some were even abandoning trail sneakers and putting on their polar boots, apparently giving up on running. They were going to walk the rest of the course.

Finally, after 12 laps, the race was over. After 9 hours and 19 minutes plus of slipping, sliding, jogging, walking, and changing clothes, I was elated and relieved to have finished. I joined the others in celebration and watched the rest of the participants come in.

Triumphant
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Michael Wardian had won the race handily, with a time of 4:07+. He described it as the hardest marathon he had ever done (he has a 2:17 marathon PR). Second place overall was a German woman, Anne-Marie, at 4:52+. Third place was Luke, a British runner, at 5:03+, a guy who was my tent mate at the North Pole. Luke told me that he had been running fairly well until about the 10th lap, with only Michael Wardian ahead of him. Around that time, however, he was getting pretty tired and started to slow down just a bit. He could feel the runner behind him, on the other hand, getting stronger and stronger.  At lap 11, she (Anne-Marie) went right by him, leaving him in the dust. 

Luke is a strong runner (with a 2:40 marathon PR), but he had no answer at that point in the race. Anne-Marie was the only person I spoke with, who didn’t think that the race was particularly difficult. After she told me about her training and racing background, however, I could understand why. She lives in the Swiss Alps and runs in similar (or even worse) conditions regularly. She showed me some pictures of her training and racing in waist deep snow, plowing through it like a bulldozer.

Amongst the rest of us mere mortals, several runners had dropped from the full marathon to a half marathon. There was an option to quit after 6 laps (a half marathon) and get credit for a half marathon finish. However, if you decided to continue, but could not complete all 12 laps, you would not be listed as a half marathon (or marathon) finisher at all. This was apparently to discourage anyone of continuing beyond 6 laps if they were really unsure of themselves.

Only one person had to drop out completely. He was a very seasoned and accomplished ultrarunner who I had met at the Antarctic Ice Marathon in 2012. After 7 laps, he had become severely hypothermic, with his core temperature dropping to about 31 degrees C (88 degrees F). He had been shaking uncontrollably in the medical tent for a good half hour, despite close medical attention and treatment. He eventually warmed up and wanted to continue, but the doctors would not let him. He was obviously disappointed. He told me that part of the reason why he had become so hypothermic was that he had decided to keep wearing his prescription eyeglasses for the race. This required him to uncover his mouth (and lower face) so that the condensation from his exhaled breath would be diverted away from his glasses. I realized after his story that I had made the right decision to give up on trying to wear my eyeglasses.

One other runner had became quite hypothermic as well. After his fifth lap, he had to warm up in his cot in the tent for maybe a half hour or so before continuing. He finished one more lap and stopped, getting credit for a half-marathon finish. Several runners got frostnip. One of the guys who put on a heavy polar coat and polar boots for the last few laps became overheated and uncovered much of his head in order to cool off, but got some frostnip on his ears.

At The Geographic North Pole
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

For the most part, however, everyone else finished without any problems. As far as I know, no one got any frostbite from standing in their birthday suits for a souvenir picture. No one lost any body parts to a hungry polar bear. Everyone was exhausted, but ecstatic, and proudly wore their finisher’s medals. After a solid night of sleep at Camp Barneo, we all returned to Longyearbyen the next day. Longyearbyen, with its above-zero temperatures (about 4 to 5 degrees F), felt like a balmy subtropical paradise. We had an awards ceremony and some decent meals accompanied by some nice brews. Over the next couple of days, we each said our good byes. By the time I returned to New York on a late, warm, sunny afternoon on April 12, it felt like another world. It was weird not having to worry about base layers, insulating mid layers and shells. It was weird not having to cover every last square inch of skin while outside. It felt strange to feel sunlight that felt warm on the skin. It was amazing how over a period of just one week, the wintry, icy and frozen worlds of Longyearbyen and the Arctic Ocean/North Pole had become my new normal.

-Howard C

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