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Sprinting for the Health of It.
Zach Simons is one of the best up-and-coming skiers in the country, and a frequent contributor to team Today. He lives in Midway, UT.
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\r\nJUNE 14, 2004: BY ZACK SIMONS
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\r\nI set out the other morning for an easy double pole workout. The air was still crisp from the cool, dark night before and the sun had yet to fully crest the high mountains marking the outer limits of the Heber Valley.
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\r\nThe sharp, rhythmic sound of my carbide pole-tips against the brittle, early morning asphalt lulled me into zen-like state of ‘highway hypnosis’. I cruised down the road at a steady clip with ease; shaken from my trance only by the lifeless ‘beep’ of my heart rate monitor alerting me that the hill I was climbing had taken me slightly out of zone.
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\r\nThe Heber Valley is generally very flat. In order to add a greater variation of terrain to my workouts, it has been necessary to be fairly creative. I have somewhat of a standard loop which I modify slightly depending on the desired length of my training session.
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\r\nThis particular morning was no different. After leaving my driveway and skiing down my own road, I cruise through several neighborhoods and sub divisions. Once those have been navigated, I make way to a golf course in my corner of the valley and then down the road to Soldier Hollow, across the railroad tracks and the highway and past the valley dump. This puts me on a long, straight road that leads me directly into the town of Daniel.
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\r\nThe Heber Valley is the antithesis of its resort town neighbor, Park City. Largely rural, the roads are mainly populated by trucks, used for either construction or farming. The occasional car is most often a rusted out Buick or Oldsmobile sedan or some teenager’s ’85 IROC Camero. The town of Daniel is perhaps the roughest edge of the Valley; bordered on one end by the dump and the other by a gravel quarry. Daniel is a small community consisting mainly of double-wide trailers, prefabricated homes and run down farm houses. An interesting place to rollerski, Daniel is home to some of the world’s most random farm animals: llamas, alpacas, peacocks, ducks, minks, you name it- it probably lives in Daniel. As numerous as the farm animals are the large steel lawn ornaments adorning the property surrounding so many homes; broken down cars that have been left to the elements for their final disposal.
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\r\nAs I poled through town I was unphased by the sight of all this. From the rooster crowing at the rising sun to the small flock of ducks crossing the street behind me, I had seen it all before. The low rumble of my soft rubber wheels over the rough, chip sealed road only furthered my blank state of mind.
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\r\nOn the edge of town I made a left turn that put me on a road heading back in the direction of my house. At this particular corner lies a small farmhouse surrounded by a wall of shoulder high shrubs. As I passed the house I was startled by a thunderous roar, the sound of two large dogs barking at peak volume. At the middle of the property was a break in the bushes where there was a path that led to the house’s front door. As I approached the opening I realized that this pair of animals was not only barking at me, they were speeding full bore through the yard in my direction. I caught a glimpse of the dogs out of the corner of my eye. The lead dog was a German shepherd that must have weighed well over 75 lbs, the other was smaller, looked like some kind of Doberman mix.
\r\nThe front dog had a terrible look in his eye, that of a beast who had not been fed in weeks. His sharp fangs shined bright with hatred for me, a passerby who dare cross his territory. As these rabid mongrels quickly approached the road I realized that, unlike so many other barking dogs that I ski by everyday, these ones had no intention of stopping. Fight or flight.
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\r\nThe chasing dog, a situation that every road runner, cyclist and rollerskier has encountered. Usually these animals don’t leave their own yard. Sometimes they’ll greet you at the street with a shower of barking. Other times you simply know that that they aren’t slowing down until they have their jaws wrapped securely around the small of your calf.
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\r\nThe rollerskier is armed with several very sharp carbide tips, one at the end of each pole. Many will attempt to use these tips in defense. Being a friend to mongrels everywhere, I don’t prefer this option. I don’t really want to stab the animal and I would hate for an errant tip to catch him in the eye or something. I’ve also seen someone grip their ski pole like a golf club and try to bat the dog away. This is not your best bet, as there is no way a lightweight pole is going to stop a charging German shepherd, no matter how hard you swing. The only other real option is to lower your head and try to out sprint the animal.
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\r\nAs was the case, I accelerated as quickly as I could manage on such short notice. For the first few seconds I was certain that any moment I would feel the dog’s fangs clamp onto my hamstring and bring me to the ground. Gradually the animal stopped barking and began to slow. The sound of his heavy breathing softened as I pulled away from him. For nearly a minute the dog had chased me at full canter. My heart rate well over 180bpm, I slowed down to catch my breath. The dog stood at the center of the road several hundred yards from where I was now standing like a soldier at full attention.
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\r\nStill jittery with adrenaline, I completed the rest of my workout. I was content with the fact that I had out-sprinted the dog. I don’t know how he compares to the top skiers in the world, but he certainly gave me a run for my money. I haven’t ventured back down the same road for almost a week now though I know that it won’t be long before I will have to temp the beast again.
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\r\nMy advice to you all, keep your wits sharp and your ferrules sharper.
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\r\nAll for now, I’m out. ZSi.
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Written By: zsiDate Posted: 6/17/2004Number of Views: 306
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