The master Master-blaster

The master-blaster monicker isn’t a compliment in cross-country ski circles, but it should be. 

Overzealous old-folks, time-constrained parents, middle-aged maniacs — all perpetually trapped in a cheaply constructed version of their ‘glory days’, manifested in a never-ending L2 workout which begun the day after their final conference track meet and has continued uninterrupted through their last Birkie — these are the personas which come to mind when the label gets delivered as an excuse for poor race-day preparation

Then there’s Courtney Dauwalter. The master of master-blasters.

The Leadvillian’s exploits are so elite, it’s hard to remember she’s 39. 

I don’t know what you were doing the year before you went over the hill, but it probably wasn’t climbing up and over mountains setting 100-mile records. After winning three of the biggest and hardest century trail races in the world, Outside Magazine named Dauwalter one of their ‘Outsiders of the Year,’ alongside athletes like Mikaela Shiffrin and Sifan Hassan. 

Here’s the crazy part: in 2017, the unsponsored Dauwalter was a public school teacher debating with her husband whether or not she should go all in on running. Now, she has 595k Instagram followers and might be the most important athlete for a brand which also supplies equipment for another Minnesota High School state cross-country ski champion, Jessie Diggins.

Both athletes are currently the best in the world at their craft and both liberally use the phrase “pain cave.” Unlike Diggins, however, the highlights of Dauwalter’s career have all basically come after World Athletics defined her as a ‘master.’

I turn 33 this year, so I don’t share that title with Dauwalter. I’m not a Western States, UTMB or Hard Rock champion, either, but as Bill Swerski once said, “Dats somethin ta shoot for.”

After reading Meaghen Brown’s article, however, I realized we do have some things in common.

Our unstructured workout routines — definitional to master blaster doctrine — are preceded by coffee and emails. Neither one of us starts a run with more than a “rough idea” of how far it will end up being or how hard we’ll end up going…both features determined by feel.

Sometimes we bike and in the winter we ski. We grew up hardened by Minnesota winters, which taught us, as she aptly described to Brown, to “do anything, regardless of the weather.” We live in Leadville, drowned by Broncos fans, but cheer for the Vikings. Come to think of it, this has to be Dauwalter’s strangest, most depressing habit….Maybe she does it just to remind herself what losing feels like.

Our parents instilled a similar philosophy of sport by their own example. In Dauwalter’s words: “work hard, give everything you’ve got and don’t forget to have fun.” 

Finally, we both used to be educators and we both ran in the 2017 HRCA Backcountry Wilderness Half Marathon. 

The final anecdote is presently on my mind.

That Dauwalter and I ran into each other there is ironic, especially since we occasionally literally run into each other now jogging up 7th street on mining district roads or meandering through CMC’s trails. She’ll smile, wave and say “have a good run!” ….unless Ajee’s with me, in which case she’ll react to her vicious barking with a gracious “Well! That got my heart rate up!” (true story…direct quote).

When I ran that race, I had no idea Dauwalter was in the field. I didn’t even know who Courtney Dauwalter was — which was basically true for everyone except trail running junkies who knew she won the Moab 240 a month prior. As Brown cited, Mike Ambrose, the former team manager at Salomon, only offered Dauwalter her first sponsorship that year. 

So here I am. Right where Dauwalter was then. Kind of. I mean, I have two kids and I have not really won anything of major significance….yet! But work with me — by the end we can all clap our hands like that guy in Rudy.

(Cue dramatic Rudy music) .. …So, here I am. Right where Dauwalter was then….(this script is good Linus, very good). Supported by a few small sponsorships, dabbling in different scenes our pasts perhaps prepared us for or at least indicated some amount of promise. Driven by curiosity and a desire to reach our limits. Passionate about climbing until we see what’s on the other side. 

“What we wanted was to look back when we were 90 years old and not wonder what if? about anything,” she told Outside about her and her husband’s decision 7 years ago to just flat out go for it. 

Isn’t this the quintessential master-blaster creed?

Not ‘bad’ training or ‘too much’ training.

Not squeezing into our college kit even though it seems to have shrunk.

Not going full-send at the town series 3k against 10-year-olds or blowing by a college kid on his easy run just to see if you ‘still have it.’

Being a master isn’t (just?) about a never-ending addiction to the thrill of competition or winning. I think it’s defined by an insatiable appetite for pushing individual boundaries and seeing where the line actually is.

I think it’s about unveiling what was always inside us. For discovering who we were created to be all along.

Dauwalter illustrated this to Brown in describing her dream of crossing the U.S. in covered wagon.

“I think of the people who stopped, who were like, ‘This is good.’ Wouldn’t you wonder if it is good?” she said.

“Wouldn’t you be like, ‘Is this the best it can be?’ And then there are the people who kept wondering what was over there and made it to Oregon. I don’t know which person I would be….I want to think I would keep going.”

Me, too.