The main purpose of what follows is to serve as an historial account of the event. It is not styled for a particular audience.

The Making of Bummer, No Blizzard! Part 2
By Josh Merlis

Background
I first came to Albany in the late summer of 2000. It was my first winter north of Long Island, and quite the difference it was! It seemed the snow never left after Thanksgiving, and even in April I was still stomping on the white stuff during my runs in Pine Bush. The winter of '01-'02 was even worse, as we received two snowstorms in excess of twenty inches, not to mention a deep freeze the kept it around for quite some time. The first Dodge the Deer, held on April 13, 2003, required parts of the course to be shoveled the day prior.

In mid-February 2005, a few weeks after a deep-freeze hit the area, the thermometer hit 60 degrees. The first Brave the Blizzard race, which was scheduled for February 20th of that year, was in great jeopardy, and as the date approached, there was no relief. The trails were not clear, however, rather they were covered in a thick ice, and even walking on them was a scary adventure. The day before our first BTB, we re-routed the course, spending 5 hours chopping ice and doing what we could to make it runnable. That would be the only year this would be necessary; this is the Northeast for crying out loud!

The Western Massachusetts Athletic Club has truly put snowshoeing on the map in the Northeast. Between the combined efforts of various WMAC members who direct the events, in combination with Bob Dion's relatively new snowshoe company, the sport has exploded in the region, although a bit to the east of the Capital District. With our desire to introduce local runners to the sport, we need loaners to provide to them, which Dion has been doing for all WMAC races. In late 2004, Ed Alibozek, the WMAC snowshoe series guru, added the ARE's event to their calendar and we got Dion on board to provide loaners. We very much hoped they would get used in 2006.

BTB Part 2 - When?
In the last few years, the WMAC snowshoe schedule has grown tremendously, with events on nearly every Saturday and Sunday from early December through the beginning of March. Every fall, Ed sends out an email to race directors in an attempt to compile the schedule. As a club who finds much of its volunteer base in the form of college students, this knocks out a huge amount of time we could hold the race. Winter break isn't an option, which extends practically to the end of January, nor is President's week - knocking out another two weekends. With the HMRRC Winter Series held every other Sunday, we didn't have options so much as one possible date. That tends to be the modus operandi with us: the events' date picks itself.

After speaking with Ed about the schedule as it already was, which corresponds to the availabilty of also providing the loaners for participants, a date of Saturday, February 11, 2006 was chosen. The ARE's first Saturday race ever. Nine days earlier than the 2005 edition. How could there not be snow!?

An Unexpected Hurdle
After deciding on the date, our next step was to reserve Guilderland Elementary School gym, which is where the 2005 event was staged out of. The gym provides quite the refuge compared with most other winter events, as they are typically staged at trailheads - even bathrooms aren't always present. In addition to the heated building, with the gym directly adjacent to the starting line, was the existence of bathrooms, showers, and ample parking - none of which should be taken for granted. All of this was advertised on our race applications and was a perk we are proud of.

About two and a half weeks before the 2006 event, I received a phone call from Bob Oates, who has been the event mentor from its inception. He is the Guilderland XC coach and directed a 26 year summer trail run series. The message he left was brief and blunt, "I have bad news. We don't have the gym. Apparently there was a mix-up and it was already reserved. Call me." This call came about 3 months after a call that said, "We're all set with the gym! Get those flyers made, we're good to go!"

When I checked my messages on that day, which was sometime in the mid-afternoon on a relatively warm and sunny late January day, I couldn't help but laughing. And I continued to laugh. While I knew he wasn't joking, there was some humor to be had. On September 29, 2005, one month and one day before the first annual Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly Six Mile, I received a phone call from Joel Hecht, the Albany Pine Bush Preserve Stewardship director, reneging on his word regarding our event being held there. He had emailed me on April 7, 2005 okaying the event, and in late August, added about ten hoops I had to jump through which apparently were nothing more than a test of our dedication to the event. After jumping through each one of them, ranging from tracking down the power company whose lines traverse the perserve to reworking the course seven times, it came down to a phone call, which if you want to hear something funny, here it is: I answered my cell phone while in the bathroom at work. At least I took it sitting down.

Perhaps now you know why I laughed.

What to do next
It is extremely rare that an event develops and is executed perfectly. Fortunately, our events have generally had good luck on the actual day, but this behind-the-scenes mess was getting to be enough. Perhaps the worst part was there wasn't even any snow as February rolled around! I spoke with Oates, as well as some others in the club, about what to do. The school didn't want us on the property due to possible overcrowding with the other event, and if we didn't have the building, what was the point anyway? If there's one thing one must be true to, it is thine own word! Our word was that we had a heated building, if nothing else. The last thing I was going to do was fall through on that. So we got to thinking... and thinking... and thinking... and there wasn't much coming up. Once again, the biggest problem was the snow itself, of which there was none!

We tossed around the idea of holding the event at the University at Albany, which is where the HMRRC winter series races are held - and also the birthplace of ARE. While there is a dearth of trails on the campus ever since they decided to pave it over about five years ago, there is still plenty of grass for the road-phobic. That definitely wasn't what we wanted to do, but there were no other schools nearby with the amount of land necessary to hold the event.

Meanwhile...
With the race less than two weeks out, many individuals approached me about helping out in whatever capacity needed. If there's one thing a race director appreciates, it is just that: volunteers! So many ideas never come to fruition due to a lack of team support, and if there is one great thing the ARE has experienced in its barely three year existence, it is the generosity of its members' time. The only trouble was, I didn't know what to tell the people who were asking me, as I didn't even know where the race was going to be, let alone the course!

Only about a dozen in the club were privy to what was going on, namely because we did expect to remedy it (although we were darned in figuring out how) and the last thing we needed was a panic. With that, I merely told people to check the website as the date got closer as I would post the information on our members page.

Better days
On Friday, February 3, I called Guilderland High School and asked to speak with Oates. He had mentioned to me a few days prior that he was going to contact a local golf course (complete with a clubhouse) that borders Tawasentha Park (site of his annual September cross country race) and see if we could use it. It turned out the golf course was reserved for a local XC skiing event, although he was going to see if we could merge the two events together. When I called him that morning, I was definitely not expecting what I found out.

I reached another woman that he works with, who was the one that actually handled the reserving of the Elementary school gym. I asked to speak with Oates, and when she said he was unavailable, I said who I was at which time she asked, "Did you receive my message?" I'm not sure why she would have left me in the first place, considering the last time I spoke with her was when I found out there was nothing we could do to get the gym. She then said we had the small gym at the school, and that everying was fine. I was in a bit of shell-shock, as I had called merely to discuss our options; being told we were back on and everything was fine was not what I was expecting. I profusely expressed my thanks, as it truly solved what was unquestionably quite the problem, and let out quite the, "Woohoo!" as my homeroom students entered the room. They already find me to be a bit "different", so it was nothing new for them to see me, as many refer to it, as having another "ADHD episode."

Getting back in touch with Oates
One of the ironic parts about all this was that Oates wasn't contacted for a few days until after I was about this. About four days later, upon getting home from work one day, I had two messages. The first one was from him, saying that we were okayed by the golf course, the XC ski event, and Tawasentha Park, itself, to hold our event. And who says things don't work out in the end!? Had that been necessary, it would have been great, as that facility is literally barely a mile down the street from the school, making it easy to send people over. I felt badly, though, because we didn't need it! Fortunately, his next message simply said, "Disregard that last message, we have the school, we have the school, we're good!" Here we were, about 9 days out from the event, and things looked good... except for that whole snowshoe part.

Global Warming
In 2005, we had snow up until shortly before the event. In 2006, it was the "winter that never was", and it was with great sadness that so many events in the WMAC snowshoe series had to cancel/postpone/or simply be held as trail events. With our event just over a week away, temperatures were still unseasonably warm, with many days in the 50s! Even as we entered the final week, the forecast of more 'normal' temperatures was joined with nothing but clear skies. At the same time, however, my weather.com addiction only grew stronger. When I wasn't happy with what they were forecasting, I would jump over to accuweather.com, and occasionally the National Weather Service. I figured since metereologists are rarely correct in the Northeast, at least one of them had to be forecasting something that would make me happy! Friday's 30% chance of snow never grew, and even though I woke up to a coating on a race morning, it was just enough to cover up some of the ice on the course, but nothing else.

Deja Vu
The day after the first Brave the Blizzard "snowshoe" race, I snowshoed the Brave the Blizzard on its intended course. Yes, that night, we received about 6 inches of snow, which I gladly stomped through, cursing the air as I made fresh prints that Monday evening. With BTB 2.0 just a few days away, a storm was developing that had weather dorks around the area howling with excitement. A giant Nor'easter was coming! The original prediction was it would have more of an impact to the north, at least according to my "favorite" weather website, while the others said, "We'll have a better idea as it gets closer," which pretty much amounts to we'll know when you know which is when you're shoveling out of the amount of snow we had no exact idea would fall. And they have PHD's.

On Thursday, February 9, we organized a 4:45pm group run for the BTB course, at which time 13 of us grouped up for some fun - and to see if any changes were needed. Most of the course was absolutely naked trail, although we did hit about a half mile section that was all ice. After we all nearly met our ends getting through that section, we re-routed our intended course and decided upon a much safer adaptation for Saturday which would increase the race distance to about 3.5 miles. Safety first! That night, Tom Adams and myself rejoiced to the latest forecasting threatening for 4-8 inches Saturday evening, at which time we declared, "At 10pm, we return to Guilderland Elementary School for the first ever Brave the Blizzard SNOWSHOE race! It was an enjoyable dream - and remains one to this day...

THE DAY BEFORE
On Friday, February 10, 2006, I awoke, excited and anxious. I hadn't shaved in several days, and I didn't even comb my hair as I walked out the door and got in my unusually cold Jeep. While I was dressed in my usual shirt/tie combo, it wouldn't have hurt to have been a bit more kempt. Going along with the theme of ironies, I don't see my principal every day, but this was the second time I was ever in her office, and it was the second time I was in and could've benefitted from having used a razor at some in the previous few days. A 2007 resolution it will be.

I've always been against directing a Saturday race, namely from a practical standpoint of needing at least an entire day before to make sure everything is in order. Fortunately, this was not a first-time event and it was also short enough that we could take care of the course the morning of - all Friday required was the grunt work of running errands. My classes went well during the day; I began the day with my Java 2 class, which is mainly composed of energized high school underclassman, many of whom I could see having futures in that field. I ended the day with my algebra and web design course, the latter of which is a relaxed setting with only 10 students. As the final bell rang, I did something I rarely do - leave when the students do. This was not one of those days I wouldn't see the sun - I escaped out the door with my last student, realizing that I only had 19 hours before the start of the race.

It's a team effort
As I made the 25 minute commute back to my house, I called some people in the club, looking for a helping hand for the next few hours. The club had two group runs scheduled for within the next hour, so I knew my chances were slim. Shortly before I left, I IMed Becky Rahmanian, who said she'd love to help. She has truly emerged in the club over the course of the past year as someone who is always willing to lend a hand, for which I am forever grateful! A little while later I picked her up, and off we went, first to Capital Costumes, where we picked up Frosty, the snowman costume. Capital Costumes is a terrific place, one that the ARE has been working with since starting Dodge the Deer back in 2003. Knowing my time crunch, and how busy she was, Lisa, the owner, handed me the costume upon arriving and said, "We'll take care of things when you return it." It's nice to work with people like that.

While we had a ton to do, we were also starving, so we stopped at Subway for what we thought would be a fast early dinner. Well, needless to say we spent about 15 minutes waiting while the two high school kids dilly dallied as the woman behind us only grew more enraged. I always get a kick out of seeing people get very angry about that things like that; Becky and I were more just hungry and very grateful when we finally stuffed our faces, both downing foot long subs in about 6 and a half minutes. After an exciting stop to pick up printer ink at Best Buy, we were then on our way to Sam's Club, before I realized the produce store was closing soon and I had to pick up the order. Becky suggested I drop her off at Sam's, so she could take care of that (we had a list made) while I picked up the produce. That thought had never entered my mind; nothing like having words of wisdom sitting next to you while you frantically drive around an overcrowded mall.

By the time I returned to Sam's club, she was already done, and by 6:30pm, we were back at my house, with enough pancake batter to feed Fenway Park. (Slight embellishment.) After 20 minutes of purposefully doing nothing, I dropped Becky off at her dorm and headed to the residence of ARE Prez and treasurer, respectfully: Mary Bovenzi and Amanda Thornton. I gave Amanda the cookie and brownie mix, and then headed back to the house where Neil Snedeker and Benny Salo were waiting to organize and load the cars. Amanda and Mary led the Hairy Gorilla brigade of cookie making on Saturday, October 29, which was definitely one of the most "fun" days for the club. About 15 of us spent over 8 hours walking the thirteen plus miles of the course, raking, cleaning, marking, etc. while Amanda and Mary had a baking party attended by a good half dozen plus, with the simple instructions of making as many cookies as is humanly possible. A day earlier, I had about 10 guys over my house with the instructions: make as many gravestones as you possibly can. Much like the late Prefontaine, we don't like to set limits. (Possibly a corny joke right there.) :)

While we were loading the cars with cones, tables, and a myriad of other necessities, Peter Rossi showed up. He joined the ARE in its first year and has been our computer guru from day one. We do all of race results in-house, and even though he hasn't run a mile with us in probably 2.5 years, he's still one of the most reliable guys around. After loading the cars, we headed up to my room where we transfered the race results database/program to his computer, as well as discussed the general timing issues. In short, BTB is on the "easier" side of things due to its small size, but we don't want to sacrifice quality in light of a low quantity.

Organization
This is my first year teaching. I teach in a middle-class, predominantly rural area twenty three miles from where I live. Above all else, I preach organization as paramount to success. I constantly repeat the words that those who do well in my classes will be those who are prepared and can access resources when they need to, knowing full well where they are. With a great sigh of relief, I pulled out a binder from the 2005 BTB race that included two folders inside. These folders had every sign we used last year, as well as a checklist of general event needs. Peter and I shared a laugh reading the signs we made the previous year for the extremely dangerous course, while Benny watched on, a fall 2005 addition to the club. Benny, himself, has been one of many unsung heroes these last few months in the club, always offering to help, and never waiting to be asked. It is because of people like him that these events can and do happen.

A little earlier in the day I had contacted ARE veteran Chris Chromczak, asking if he'd like to come over later and help us get ready for the next day. He inquired if I meant play him in scrabble, to which I responded, "Sure, come over and we'll play scrabble." At 9pm, 13 hours before the start of the race, Chris and I sat down for a friendly (well, acquiescent) game of scrabble. Truth be told, there really wasn't much more to do, although I kept telling myself that couldn't be - all the other events we've directed have usually kept me up well past 2am, if not later, and it's not like I ever fell asleep anyway. So it was, a few after hours getting off the phone with Ryan Cowper, telling her how much I had to do, I was sitting down, thinking of where to put my "B". It was with quite the look of shock when she stopped by the house around 9:30pm, only to enter to see Chris and myself playing while Peter, Neil, and Benny watched on. If you've ever been around us the night before any other race, you would bet your career that we wouldn't be playing a board game. We all shared a good laugh and then she watched on as Chris and I started discussing our race strategy for the next day. Chris was hoping to win, I was hoping to win. By win, we mean finish before the other person - the race itself didn't count. When I asked her who she hoped would win, all she could muster was a feeble, "I hope you both win."

A little while later, she and Peter left, and after another 30 minutes of scrabble, we called it on account of apathy. Our minds had drifted from the game, so he went home and I went back upstairs to make some signs for BTB. By 11:30pm, I was ready for bed, so in a most relaxed fashion, I said good night to Neil and Benny, did a Sudoku, and went to sleep. The nearly 5 hours of sleep I got were a record for the night before an ARE event.

RACE DAY
At 5:20, I woke up and quickly changed into my running clothes. I headed downstairs, thought about eating, but elected to move everything else that had to be loaded up into one spot. As I've written before in other recaps, race morning is very special, as its always pitch-black out and reminds me of fun ski vacations with my dad back in the late 80s/early 90s. Our October 30 Hairy Gorilla race was so much a major production for us, that I felt a new sense of security going into this day. The course was only 3 miles, not 13, we only had 25 people pre-registered, not 180, and I also didn't have to worry about transporting 50 volunteers 15 miles. Life was good. I should've eaten something.

I had asked Chris and Andy Rickert to meet me at 6:20am. By 6:14am, everything was piled and ready to go, so I stood outside, waiting beneath the bright light coming from above my detached garage. I stared inside my garage, which is where we keep all the ARE race equipment. On a shelf sits the Dodge the Deer deer cutouts, made it April 2003. We have countless boxes of race supplies, as well as about 45 posters we use at our events. I smiled to myself thinking how once I put away the BTB posters, I won't see them again for another year - a year of them just sitting in my garage, waiting to be used again. Three hours of use every year. It's worth it.

As 6:20 passed on my watch, I turned into my usual paranoid self, fearing they'd never come and the world was over. At 6:21, Chris showed up, and about 30 seconds later, Andy was there. Looks like the earth was still turning. In a very quick fashion, we loaded up Chris's pickup and Andy's SUV, and hit our 6:30am departure time right on schedule. By 6:40am, we were at the Elementary School, unloading the vehicles. I had told Oates 7am, so at 6:45, with everything sitting by the doors to the building, we got back into the cars in an attempt to warm up. It was around 11 degrees outside that morning, and fingers are important. I felt badly about getting us there so early, but fortunately Oates showed up at 6:50, and a few minutes later, everything was in the building.

SPLITTING THE TASKS
Once we got everything inside, I headed out to the course with Andy, Chris, and Paul Mueller, while Benny, Neil, John Kinnicutt and his daughter, Jordan, got to setting up inside. With our course being a loop, Paul and myself took off in one direction, while Chris and Andy took the other. We had plenty of time - a beautiful day was underway - it was fun! Upon returning to the starting/finishing area, Paul and I got to setting up the penants. About two years ago, I worked at a race directed by the Freihofer's Run for Women RD, George Regan. After the race, he emphasized, to an extent I found (at the time) to be anal and repetitive, that we roll the penants by first folding them flag on flag, then rolling that up, before tying it with the end pieces of string. The penants I was using on this day had not been rolled up that way, and man, what a pain it was! The entire thing was a giant knot, that literally required the annoying kind of looping things around and through at each flag. It was at that very moment I wish I could have had whoever last "rolled" that length of penants responsible for putting it up. He was guilty of treason.

At about 8:20am, I entered the school with the rest of the outside crew, to a fully prepared room with all the tables setup, registration and refreshments ready to go, and our DJ, Brian DeBraccio, setting up. Everything was perfect. Some of the volunteers sat down for pancakes. I played with the idea before coming up with something to do to stay occupied. It's all part of the disease that nearly all race directors suffer from: fear of completion. There always has to be something more to do, or else its over. At the first Dodge the Deer, the first race I directed, I literally felt an emptiness the day after. I didn't know what to do with myself. Not to mention I was in college only taking 12 credits, so I really had nothing to do. Fortunately that didn't last long as the very next day I spoke with a few others about coming up with an idea for another race to direct. It is my food.

The event "begins"
Around 8:40am, runners started to arrive, fortunately ones who hadn't pre-registered. We'd gone all out on the catering aspect, and especially with all of the volunteers like Nancy Briskie bringing her family - and lots of bacon and sausage, as well as the Adams family bringing their giant tub of soup - I didn't want it to go to waste! As the 10am hour drew near, about 50 people (including a snowman) were on-hand for the run, as well as about another 40 in the form of volunteers, family, and friends. At 9:54am, Brian made the announcement that all runners were to go to the snowman and banana, the two of whom would lead us to the start. At 9:58am, we were all lined up, and at 10am, Jordan started the race from 50 yards out by dropping her hand. With that, the snowman took off, getting an early lead.

Low-key love
The WMAC has perfected the art of quality "low-key" events. While I'm not sure if there's an agreed upon definition of the word, it is generally believed to mean no shirts, few if any awards, bib numbers optional, even a clock may not always be present. Low-key also tends to bring along a feeling of comraderie, whereby competition is not as important as the general brother/sisterhood of us "all being in this together." As the runners came across the line, rather than escape to the warmth of the gym, they gathered about, cheering on their brethren. Less than fifty minutes after the race began, everyone had finished and was chatting away. Dion setup his snowshoes in the back of the gym, Brian played music, people ate pancakes and sipped soup. About six hours after waking up, I grabbed a plate, and made my way to the pancakes. Just as I thought I was about to finally taste heaven, someone asked me a question. Then another person came up. Two at once... and all I could dream about was flour, water, and eggs. I felt overwhelmed, with my heart tugging between speaking with them or listening to my stomach. I said softly, "Let's chat in a few, I need some food," then grabbed 3 pancakes and scuffled off to an empty table. I bathed my still-warm friends in artifical cheap syrup from Sam's Club that I had bought a day earlier, and swallowed my food before chewing it fully.

Two sides of the coin
My high school cross country coach is a race director, mainly triathlons. His name is Jose Lopez, he is a several-time Ironman finisher, coaches many triathletes on Long Island, and is highly respected by all. He truly is a great guy, who gives back anytime he can. It was my junior year of HS that I first volunteered at one of his events.

I had volunteered at events in the past; in '95 and '96 I was one of several thousand working water stops at the NYC marathon - but I'd never actually been part of an event from the inside out. In July of '99, I accompanied Lopez and his "Racing Unlimited" race production company to Montauk Point for the Montauk Point Triathlon. He was the director, and I, along with about a dozen other people, headed out the day before with him to help in whatever capacity we could. The day of the race, I first helped with parking, then was the lead bike for the run portion. I was equipped with a walkie-talkie. It was amazing to hear all that was going on behind the scenes as the event unfolded. A car parked in a spot it shouldn't, a volunteer missing from a key location - all things that those simply participating rarely know about. The trick of the race director is to fix these problems before they actually affect the race. Even once the race starts, there are countless issues that may arise, from someone going off course to a medical emergency, or perhaps a timing (results) issue. It was quite the experience to watch all of this unfold; I was so new to it and had never prior thought about it.

Shortly before I sat down to eat, John told me that we had blown several fuses and that we were having a power problem. I spoke with him about what was working and what wasn't; just to at least make sure we could provide the breakfast we guaranteed. Another volunteer came up to me to say that they started taking markings down from the course too soon, as there was still one person behind him. It wasn't until he heard someone yell, "Please don't take those down or I'll get lost!" that he realized. Fortunately, none of these hurdles altered the outcome of the event. When I ate that first pancake, I did so with a feeling a race director doesn't always have: being a participant at my own event. Those pancakes tasted damn good.