3/11/2016
Runner’s Log – Supplemental – 7:30 AM
I’ve officially used a treadmill in Antarctic waters! I signed up for 6:30 AM but it wasn’t working when I first arrived. No lights, no power, no indication. I pushed every button on the front panel I could but I resisted the impulse to try power cycling the thing because of this rather ominous sign:
I felt like this all was a sign that I shouldn’t be using the treadmill. The last thing I needed to do was hurt myself on a silly 30 minute job on a treadmill and lose out on the chance to run a marathon on Antarctica proper.
But the guy who used it just before me was lounging in the lobby sending out some email and said I probably just needed to power cycle it. I didn’t want to cause an international incident but he was gung ho and marched down to Deck 1’s bowels to the gym. A quick power cycle and I was off and running.
The closest description I’ve been able to come up with is that it was like running blindfolded. As the sea waves crested and fell, buffeting the ship up and down and side to side, you never knew if the set incline of the treadmill would actually feel like running uphill or downhill or sideways. The motion of the ship added a level of complexity that had me holding onto the side rails. If it’s one hand for the ship when walking the decks, I felt like two hands for the treadmill was a good rule of thumb.
I didn’t have my camera with me but ambled down just before breakfast to snap a shot of me. I’m layered up to go out on deck for a quick peek but you hopefully get the idea of the dungeon vibe of the shipboard gymnasium.
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Kevin’s Log – Supplemental – 10:24 AM
I’ve just gotten out of the Zodiac Briefing which listed the dos and don’ts of boarding the rubber boats that will zip us from ship to shore or out onto the seas for wildlife viewing. I’m excited but worried I may not have enough layers. This seems inconceivable given the repeated “oh, let me toss that in as well” packing I did back in Orlando the night before departure. My bag was stuffed with layers. I think maybe they just want to warn us so we’re pleasantly surprised by the temperatures. Or so I keep telling myself.
I’m waiting to join the “vacuum party,” a quick check of all the items we will be taking on the excursions or to race day to ensure we’re not brining any foreign containments to the pristine Antarctic Peninsula. The goal is the old cliché – leave nothing but your footprints – and even then I think they’d like us to limit our footprints as well.
Whilst I sit in the cabin, a few quick recap moments for the log:
At 7:30 AM the PA announcement had the outside temperature at 1.7 degrees Celsius and the water temperature at 3 degrees. The winds however are at 36 knots. This does not surprise me as last night we were truly rocking and rolling. Somewhere around 2 AM everything I thought I had secured in the cabin rolled onto me or the floor thanks to an errant wave. Still, I never got sick but I slept terribly. Feeling bedraggled and foggy at the moment but part of that may be the Dramamine.
It’s a beautiful day, though the sea is a bit choppy. We’re not too far from our destination and the anticipation is building both for excursions and for the race day itself. I admit to having a few nerves over logistics, layers, life. But isn’t that what I signed up for?
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Kevin’s Log – Supplemental – 12:06 PM
I am now bio secure. After scrubbing my muddied trail shoes and vacuuming a few odds and ends (anything new they weren’t concerned with), I have hopefully removed any and all foreign contaminants from my gear. No seeds, no mud, no biohazards that could alter or impact the environment of this isolated continent.
It was a surreal experience, like something out of a plague outbreak movie. But also oddly rewarding, this notion of being a custodian for the future, of actively working toward preserving this natural wonder. I failed to snap a photo of me doing the good deeds but did snap a candid one-off Meg. She’s going to hate this pic I’m sure but it shows what it shows.
From there, we heard a mandatory PowerPoint presentation on the dos and don’ts of wildlife viewing and reminders of how to leave no trace behind. I snapped a few choice slides for kicks:
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Kevin’s Log – Supplemental – 2:23 PM
This seems like as good a time as any to catchup on a few outstanding anecdotes I meant to write up. We’re in a small lull between lunch and the informational meeting on kayaking in Antarctica, an activity I’ve been both terrified about trying and determined to do.
This is one of the few times that I have felt like I had a bit of downtime during the day. Otherwise there’s been just brief snatches of time, ten minutes here, fifteen minutes there between briefings, food, seminars, food, more food, and mandatory advisories that I’m kinda supposed to be self-sufficient and take care (as evidenced by the last slide above). Which isn’t to say there aren’t amenities. The ship’s crew has been great – perhaps not luxury cruise sailing quality but way, way, WAY better than I feared when the ship was described as a “converted Russian research vessel.”
So, first things first. Cabin life. Cabin doors do not lock, we have no keys, and most people just leave the doors propped open to help circulate the air. I guess if somebody was to steal something, it would truly be an Agatha Christie style locked room mystery. Not like anyone can smash and grab. Still, a bit disconcerting. We’ve been told it’s for safety reasons, that if there were a need to abandon ship, the crew needs to quickly access all the rooms and ensure everyone has gotten off safely. I’m not sure I completely buy that but I’ve grown to accept it. It is a marked change from the fear mongering of Buenos Aires petty thievery or the bigger concerns over “dodgy areas” inherent in any travel or life. Let’s be honest, all cities have places that you probably shouldn’t wander alone into at night. Which is why I was glad I had Meg to protect me when we got so lost our last night in BA.
Our cabin, which I think was the second class on the price list, has a shared bath with another adjoining cabin. The bathroom has two locks, one on either side, and the biggest concern is that you’ll lock the other room out completely and forget to unlock them (such problems are alleviated as our front door is ajar and they simply could wander around and enter through our side and unlock the bath again – hasn’t happened yet, but maybe that’s the real reason for keeping all cabins unlocked!). I’m pretty sure there’s a beat in Brooklyn (2015) that details the horrors of shared baths on long ocean voyages.
But I digress. Our cabin consists of two small beds, a desk, and not a lot of room. It’s tight quarters and because of the way the doors work, there’s always the chance of smacking someone in the head. On top of that, there just isn’t a whole lot of room for storage or access when two people are in the cabin. It’s hard enough sorting through your stuff when you’re alone. But it’ll do for what we need. The complimentary wet skins (pants and jacket) which we got outfitted for live in our cabin and take up even more room, albeit I’ve seen folks hanging their gear on the hallway railings. I may look into that as an option going forward.
We had a bit of a mess this morning though. As is often the case with me, I seem to excel at causing trouble. Someone I got the hinge to break off our cupboard door, broken in the closed, locked position. Try as we might, we couldn’t get the door open and I was afraid I’d break the particle board in half if I kept pulling. Eventually we had to ask maintenance to look at it and then I had to be a jerk asking them to fix it sooner – I had to get my gear out for the vacuum party and it was of course locked in the cupboard, in a room that should never lock. The mystery’s solution? Kevin did it. Kevin is the culprit. Kevin is an idiot.
As further evidence, I was so excited at the prospect of Meg shooting a photo of me on the bow of the ship from her vantage point on the bridge, that I scampered down to Deck 3 to make this a reality. The deck was slippery, an errant wave struck the ship, and I didn’t have one hand for the ship. I slipped sideways, landing hard on my elbow. It’s not broken, but it hurts like the dickens. Who would have thought an exterior deck on an ice cutting ship would be extra slippery? As a Russian friend explained before I went scurrying down from the bridge – the whole ship is metal and you can hurt yourself quite easily. Turns out he was very, very right.
On the plus side, Meg did get a few great shots of me I think:
And here’s the final note for this supplemental entry: I’ve tried limiting myself to one Diet Coke a day, partly out of ongoing cheapness and partly because I’m concerned about hydration. I’m always thirsty and parched and if I’m going to run a marathon on Antarctica (in two days!!) I’m trying to drink water as much as possible.
Still, this was the height of luxury indulgence this afternoon:
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Runner’s Log – Supplemental – 6:39 PM
Our kayaking informational session was running long. To facilitate the signups for the excursion, they split us into groups based on deck. Deck 4, my deck, was delayed and told to come back in an hour or when we were called over the PA system. I had signed out for another 30 minute block on the treadmill during that time period and thought I should cross out my name in case someone else wanted it.
Ten minutes later, they called us down and the questionnaire we needed to fill out was superfast. We signed a waiver, they asked us what level of kayaking experience we were (I’m a zero; Meg has been a few times but only in lakes and calm waters) and that was that. All told we were out in time for me to run and change and hop on the treadmill.
And change I did… only to walk down to the dungeon gymnasium and see someone had already taken my slot on the infernal machine. It’s a cutthroat world for the lone treadmill on a cruise filled with runners.
Later this afternoon, we were treated to a Q&A session with Marathon Tours staff about the race day. The Vavilov is running tomorrow morning and we will tackle the course on Sunday. There’s a palpable sense of adrenaline in the air now. We’ve been cooped up on this ship for two days and despite the interesting lectures and overabundance of food, we’re antsy to get on with the real adventures. While I’m excited about tomorrow’s first Zodiac trip to see Penguin Island, I wish I could get out and run this marathon. All good things come to those who wait, I suppose.
The Q&A session was fairly typical of my experience with the marathoning aspect of Marathon Tours. My question would have been, “Is this what I paid a premium for?” It felt half-baked and under-informed. And while I appreciate the Antarctic conditions present an entirely malleable schedule based on weather and activities, it still felt like there could have been a bit more hard information both provided prior to the session and during it.
The basic advice of the presentation was to load up your dry bag with a change of warm clothes for after the race, your running shoes as you’ll be wearing the rubber boots and wet skin gear on the zodiac, and your water bottles.
Tomorrow we’ll get our bib numbers and have an arts and crafts session to decorate our water bottles for quick and easy recognition during race day. There are no aid stations save the ones we individually create for ourselves. There’s a makeshift bucket porta john and a tarp for laying our dry bags and water bottles. Otherwise, we’re on our own.
The race is to start at 9 AM, barring any last minute weather issues. Breakfast is at 6:30, gangway at 7:30 and that’s when Zodiacs will ferry us over in groups to the starting line at the Russian research station. This year there’s been a rather significant change in the course. Instead of the long discussed figure eight looping course that ran between four research stations, Thom has opted based on conditions to run a six-loop, out-and-back course between the Russian and Chinese research stations. Each out and back is 2.18 miles. I’m a little disappointed that this has happened, despite the promises that there should be less mud and hill work now. It just kinda breaks my heart that we were going to see four research stations and now we’ll only be running past two. Sour grapes for a rich experience, I know.
As for the course itself, it’s billed as being run on roads, albeit station roads. It’s still open to traffic and while they don’t have any scheduled flights on Sunday that might increase the number of cars on the road, there will be some. The roads are gravel packed and apparently not wide enough to allow cars and two columns of runners so we need to run on one side of the road at all times… but not off the road as there is pristine moss growing there that we cannot under any circumstances trample due to the conservation protocols.
Rumor has it that there will be hot drinks at the finish line but after the official Marathon Tours photographer snaps our finisher photo (which may or may not be posted… nobody seemed to know what happened to the finisher photos after Matt took them for the company), volunteers and race staff will be strongly urging us to get into warm clothes and head for the Zodiacs for transport back to the Ioffe. Lingering on the shores of Antarctica after running a marathon can quickly lead to hyperthermia and nobody wants to use the medical evac insurances, least of all me, so I’m on board with this plan.
A recent weather update for the weekend has also sparked a new hope amongst the race team. They apparently overheard the Russian captain (or “keptin”) warn some of the runners earlier this week that, (and you should read this in your worst Russian accent), “Weather does not look good.” But just recently the weather has called for light winds dying out as the day goes on and things are looking very favorable for our race day. That comes with a large iceberg of salt as the weather in Antarctica can change very, very rapidly. I guess we’ll find out on Sunday which weather forecast was right.
Following the zodiac ride back to the ship, the sauna will be open and a chili buffet awaits. The runner crowd seemed a bit nonplussed with that so Christine tried selling it a bit harder; it is what it is.
That night our two converted Russian research vessels will meet in Dorien Bay and the runners and staff from the Vavilov will zodiac over to our ship for the celebration dinner that weather permitting will involve a barbecue out on the top deck of the Ioffe. The good news, as Philip explained it, is we don’t have to drink and Zodiac. The bad news is, they tend to drink all of our beer.
A series of questions, some good, some silly, followed. At the end of the session, those runners who are out here for a charitable cause gave a quick summation of what they’re running for.
Two Canadian women are running to raise money for a Nigerian school for special needs youth. As part of their fundraising, they promised to do more outlandish things based on dollar amount milestones. So they’re running in penguin suits, then a new threshold was hit and they upgraded from the half marathon to the full marathon, then they hit a moneymaker list for doing a penguin slide into the finish line, and finally they raised enough cash to justify a polar plunge into the Arctic waters. I have to admit, I’m tempted by the polar plunge myself… but as I was discussing with another runner earlier today, that’s going to be a day-of, audible call.
Five New Zealand runners and a few supportive friends are onboard running to raise money for Operation CatWalk. It was started by Katrina Williams, who as a result of a riding accident was made a tetraplegic. Over the course of the last ten years, CatWalk has raised over $6 million for spinal cord research and great strides are being made.
Finally, a runner who was in Nepal during the great earthquake last year, has been raising funds for children affected by the quake. To date this year, he’s raised 60,000 euros to help build a new school and carries on from there.
Runners are an amazingly motivated breed. We strive for challenges and pushing the limits. Me? I rarely if ever raise money. I did it for Boston Children’s Hospital. I’m tempted to raise funds for Jimmy V to run NYC this year but I’m pretty terrible at fundraising. I’m impressed by people who have chosen to give back through their running; even more by the folks who volunteer to help support their runners.