Who Doesn't Like Running on a Sheet of Ice in 12 Degrees?

For the past 7-8 Thanksgivings, I’ve woken up and headed to Washington Park in Denver for the annual Turkey Trot. It’s a fun four-mile run that makes most of us running feel just a little better about gouging ourselves at the dinner table a few hours later.

The north end of the race course a few days after Thanksgiving.

This year, though, I was heading to the Great Alaska Shootout with the University of Denver basketball team.

It’s hard to complain too much about going on a trip to watch three basketball games, but I was a little sad that my streak would end and that I wouldn’t get to meet up with friends before and after the race.

However, I quickly discovered that I wouldn’t have to miss out on Turkey Trotting entirely.

The Skinny Turkey Trot 5K in Anchorage was literally around the corner from my hotel, so I figured I would give it a shot.

What could possibly be the downside? I found out the moment our plane touched down on the runway.

Surprisingly, snow wasn’t expected while we were there, but the wheels touched down onto several inches, and the wind was howling.

Thirty-six hours later, I stepped outside the hotel to a crisp 12 degrees. Fortunately, my Brooks pants and Mizuno jacket did their jobs, along with a hat and gloves, and all 1,500 people at the starting line seemed to be moving just a little closer together than usual, trying to steal some body heat from everyone around them.

The streets were solid ice as we started the first of two loops. One man was taking a few steps at a time before sliding a good 5-6 feet, which seemed a bit strange but I try not to critique other people’s running form.

Although the race didn't get quite this close to the
Cook Inlet, we could see the ice floating in the water
during the race. This picture was taken a few days
later when I went out for a run at dusk around 4 p.m.

Most people were wearing Yaktrax or had studs in their shoes for added traction. Why I didn’t think to bring mine along is probably worth asking, unless you know me and the number of questionable, if not moronic, moves I make on a daily basis.

The street on the backstretch was snow-packed, but I remained hesitant to push it too much, fearing the images inside my head of seeing the inside of my head after it hit the ice.

Instead I relied on a shortened stride and allowed myself to take in the surroundings. On one side, I could see out to the partially frozen over Cook Inlet, while the Chugach Mountains appeared to be towering just a few miles ahead of us as we ran back the other way. Closer in, the snow covering Delaney Park appeared like a blank sheet, as though no one wanted to disturb it by walking on it. The trees all along the route were iced over and sparkling in sun that was finally peaking over the mountains when the race started at 11 a.m.

Because I had to get to the basketball team’s practice, I didn’t have time to hang around after the race, although I can’t really say I would have stuck around in the bitter cold anyway.

I would have liked to at least thanked the race organizers from Skinny Raven Running Store.

In a place like Anchorage, I wouldn’t blame anybody for spending the entire winter indoors, but Skinny Raven at least gives people the option to head out for some exercise, and based on the number of people I saw smiling (roughly 1,500 of them), I wasn’t the only one who was happy to spend part of my Thanksgiving out there.

This was the view of downtown Anchorage from my hotel just a few hours
after the race. Every street was a sheet of ice.