Shoveling snow against the tide
We were past the midpoint of the semester. The Blur was turning out solid work in class, holding down fourth position on the cross-country team, and on pace to set a school record for Care Reports and conduct violations.
Coming up fast was “Halloweek,” a fun-filled week of activities leading up to Halloween weekend and culminating with the cross-country team hosting the NJCAA Region IX meet. Central Wyoming would be returning, along with arch nemesis Trinidad State. In addition, Darren planned a fundraiser run called “Haunted Hills,” in which the public was invited to run while the cross-country team dressed in scary costumes and literally haunted the race course, spooking the entrants.
Harrison’s choir-campfire sing-along was scheduled for Wednesday that week. It was a hit, attended by quite a few students despite the early season snowstorm that blew in. Among the songs were “Country Roads” and “Yellow Submarine.” Both Nate and Harrison brought their guitars to accompany and there were S’mores and hot drinks.
Back in Westcliffe, high-school cross-country season was reaching its peak. I figured I’d driven 3,000 miles to and from Leadville in the previous 10 weeks. In addition, I’d either driven or rode on a bus another 2,000 miles to and from coaching cross-country meets. One week I coached two meets and drove the bus to both, then drove to Durango and back for Harrison’s meet — around 1,100 miles total. Often I would arrive home in the evening with the Big Dipper spread out across the northern sky through my windshield. This somehow seemed to secure my connection with the natural world. I took it as a good omen, even though I didn’t know where all this was headed.
One runner I was coaching, Julia, an exchange student from Spain who had never before run competitively, was having an amazing late-season surge. She placed 2nd at regionals and qualified for the Colorado State High School Championships. This presented a problem for me, as the state meet was on the same day as Harrison’s regional meet. Assistant Coach Heather graciously stepped up to take Julia to state so that I could go to Harrison’s meet. However, the early snow had created yet a new quandary up in Leadville.
Notes from The Blur
When I first came to CMC I was disappointed there was no choir. For my project in College Experience class I had the idea to organize a choir club at CMC. Kelli, my professor, helped me with the first steps. First I emailed a survey about the club. Then I planned a meeting to get the club started. About a half-dozen fellow students showed up. After the first meeting, we had practices every Tuesday and came up with songs for upcoming campfire sing-alongs, holiday performances, and more. Also, I had to submit a budget request for various things for the club. For example, firewood, S’mores, food for the winter concert, etc. Also, to make it easier for students to access, I put up different warm-ups and songs in a shared folder online.
My expectations were probably too high because of my experience in high school. The choir was pretty big during my freshman and sophomore years. Then the pandemic hit the following year and we didn't have any concerts or practices that spring or the following fall. The next year, even fewer kids were interested. Unfortunately, this got worse to the point where only one other kid and I were in the choir.
During CMC’s “Halloweek,” a week-long chain of Halloween events, which included a “Monster Mash” party and ended with our regional cross-country meet, we planned our first choir event — a campfire sing-along. The CMC Eagles Choir came together one evening around the campfire behind the Mountain View Residence Hall and sang songs, played guitars, made S’mores, and socialized. Some of the songs were country, some were soundtracks from movies, and some were classic Americana. John Denver’s “Country Roads” was a hit.
However, my idea to form a choir didn’t exactly go to plan. I was expecting a choir with a conductor, sheet music, risers, an audience, and the typical black uniforms. It ended up being campfire and guitar music due to the limited funding and lack of interest. I still sang warm-ups and/or choir songs on my own in the Multipurpose Room, my own room and study rooms. I even memorized some choir songs I found on YouTube.
As luck would have it, the trail system was now buried for the winter, jeopardizing the regional meet. When I arrived Thursday, Darren had called a team meeting to discuss the event and I decided to attend. The snow was too deep to use the regular course. Darren had a couple of alternative ideas, including out and back several times on the college’s fire escape road, which could be plowed. Some of the women’s squad were adamantly protesting this course.
Darren mentioned another route that would utilize the fire road, linking to the Mineral Belt Trail for a short distance, and then returning by one of the CMC trails to the start. It would essentially be laps with a steep hill each time around — two for the women and three for the men. The course could also be modified for the Haunted Hills run. Kelli was working to get permission from the Lake County Recreation Board to use the Mineral Belt.
Even so, there remained the question of the half-mile of uphill on the trail system which remained covered by snow. I volunteered that I was a champion snow-shoveler and could likely clear that trail in a morning of work. Ben spoke up saying that as college runners they had signed on to do a job, and that included running regardless of the conditions. The ladies remained unimpressed and were in favor of calling off the meet altogether. Darren scheduled another meeting the following morning when he hoped to have more information from Kelli about the Mineral Belt access.
That next morning we met again and Darren had the good news that Kelli had gotten approval to use the Mineral Belt. We would go with this alternate course. Darren and I borrowed snow shovels from the CMC maintenance guys and we each started from opposite ends of the trail. He shoveled from the soccer field down and I drove to the bottom of Dutch Henry Hill and started shoveling uphill.
Despite my advertised Olympic qualifications in snow-shoveling, this presented a considerable workout and I found I had to pace myself in the altitude. I could not escape the irony of removing snow from a cross-country ski trail as I shoveled my way uphill under blue skies. Pine squirrels and Canadian jays chattered from the trees and swarms of nanoscopic snow fleas bounced off the sugary snow, which had actually started to sublimate. I was determined to get down to dirt for traction, and also make the path wide enough for runners to pass. Scoop by scoop, I made my way up the steep trail, laboring for a good part of the morning. I eventually found a rhythm to the work, and met Darren shoveling his way downhill near the college’s snow study station.
We now had a course and only needed to flag it.
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