A lesson in humility.

Today was the The 6th Annual Sandia Snowshoe Race. A few days ago, I pulled my new snowshoes out of the box.

Um. What is this "21" on here?
I turned it over and saw a length v. weight chart on the back. 21...inches.
21 inches...let's see, that's for...up to 125 pounds.

I am, as you may recall, somewhat ABOVE 125 pounds. Like, about 35 pounds over.

I don't remember seeing anything about "size" when I was ordering the damned things. Who knew snowshoes came in sizes?

Hey, Baboo, I asked my mate, what happens if you're snoeshoes are too small for you - will they break?

No. You'll just sink down in the snow.

Excellent.

And, then the snow will then cover the top of the snowshoe, anchoring you down.

Yay, even better.

(Sigh).

Well, as it turns out, the trail was pretty packed down, although not completely packed. So, 3.2 miles. I felt pretty cocky. Much, sadly, more self-confident than I was entitled. You get that way sometimes after doing an Ironman. Most of the time it's a good thing. The rest of the time it's just kind of pathetic and sad.

Pfft. 3.2 miles. I've done marathons! 3.2 is nothing! I'll smoke that trail.

Well, I didn't do a marathon at 10,000 feet, now, did I? I was thinking this as I was huffing and puffing my way up the snowy trail way, way, way in the back of the pack, after having given up on the idea of jogging with snow shoes and setting in with a group of hikers.

And I didn't do them with tennis rackets strapped to my feet either, did I? Tennis rackets that did occasionally sink down into the snow being as they had two small of a surface-area to support my weight, and, well, then they did become anchored, just as Baboo had predicted.

it was my

SLOWEST. 5K. EVAR.

1 hour, 17 minutes.

But, it was new, and it was fun. An adventure, if you will.

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