If the snowshoe fits, run in it. So say the gang at Running Fit in Traverse City, including the sadistic - cruelly sadistic - Jeff Gaft.

It was late January, time for the third annual Bigfoot 5K and 10K snowshoe races. The event attracted the elite - the 10K was a qualifier for the national championships in Salt Lake City - and the polar opposite of elite, like me.

The Web site promised that "No experience is necessary. Snowshoeing is just running/walking/stumbling." And I am living proof of the truth. I came, I saw, I got conquered, and, without much experience, I ran poorly, walked so-so, and showed a real talent for stumbling.

Race morning was one of those glorious, absolutely-perfect winter days, the kind they make the calendars and cliches out of. The sky was deep blue. It was one of the snowiest Januaries on record in Traverse City, but the white-outs of the last three days had cleared out, leaving the air washed of impurities. Snow was piled deeply all around us, on the ground and on branches of trees at the Timber Ridge ski resort west of town.

A record field of 210 showed up, many of them novices, some in borrowed shoes the resort makes available to those who don't have their own. Our breathing created a vapor fog in the still air as we awaited the start, the wind of the last few days having vanished. It was crisp, clear and cold. Minus-3 to be exact.

My wife, Kathleen, and I decided we'd run/walk/stumble together. We own our own shoes and had used them a few times the last couple winters, but we'd never raced, had no idea what to expect, and were fearful of looking like uncoordinated geeks as sleek cross-trainers from the far north smoothly pulled away from us.

Happily, we realized we were surrounded, back in the pack, by lots of other novices. The 5K loop seemed more like 8 or 9. The path alternated between fairly hard-packed, wide, almost-groomed paths, to deep, slogging, single-track barely wide enough to get both shoes down. We went up and down and up some more. Funny how a loop course can have so many more ups than downs.

Funny how Jeff managed to work in that mountain full of switchbacks just before the finish line, some %*@! thigh-destroying cliff that put the stumbling into running/walking/stumbling.

Sixty-four minutes after the start, crusted in snow, our breath frozen into ice crystals in our face masks, we finished. Whipped and exhilarated. Inside, hot chili and fresh cookies awaited. What a blast. We'll be back.

Thanks, Jeff. (To get info on next year's race, send Jeff an e-mail as time approaches at runfittc@aol.com, or call at (231) 933-9242.

~~~

Good to see Keith and Kevin Hanson won their mini-battle with the USATF folks over qualifying times for the U.S. Olympic marathon trials in Alabama in February. Right up until practically the last minute, the Hansons - and their Web site - insisted that Brian Sell had run 2:19:59 at Chicago to reach the A standard, which meant his expenses would get paid for by the national organization, and that Ben Rosario had run 2:21:59 at Chicago, to make the B standard by a second.

For months, the USATF Web site said that Sell had missed the A standard by several seconds and that Rosario had missed the B standard, as well.

Well, fans of the ChampionChip may like to claim perfection for the high-tech devices - and they certainly make scoring a race a heck of a lot easier for directors around the country - but the system isn't perfect.

Run enough races with the chip and you'll note discrepancies between what it tells you and what your watch says -- discrepancies that occur even though you start your watch at the starting line and finish it as you step across the finish line.

The Hansons appealed to Carey Pinkowski, director at Chicago. He looked at the films and saw that Sell's time and Rosario's time matched what the Hansons claimed all along, not what was listed at USATF. Carey amended their times. Finally, the national organization made the changes too. So Sell got his free trip and Rosario got his trip.

The trials occurred just after this column went to press, but we in Michigan had plenty to be proud of, regardless.

Thanks in large part to the Hansons-Brooks team, Michigan had a huge presence at the trials. Populous California, as might be expected, led all states with 15 qualifiers, 12 of whom entered the race. Michigan was next, with 12 qualifiers and 10 entrants. The Hansons team qualified 10 runners: nine of them state residents, the other, Mike Franko, a former resident. Jeff Campbell pulled out of the trials because of illness, leaving nine members at the starting line.

Other runners with state ties included Ryan Shay, the former Central Lake all-stater and Notre Dame all-American who won the U.S. marathon title last year; and Paul Aufdemberge, who is becoming the old man river of local running, just rolling, rolling along.

Kyle Baker, who ran hurt much of last year, was the fastest qualifier among state runners with a 2:14:13, but was sidelined by a hernia.

Michigan State, where Baker is an assistant coach, led all U.S. colleges with five alums qualifying. Stanford was next with four, and Eastern Michigan third with three.

Doug Kurtis's name popped up too. No, he didn't qualify this time. But Darrell General, 38, of Maryland did. It was the fifth time General qualified, tying him for the record with Kurtis, Ric Sayre and Ed Eyestone.

Despite the opinions of our neighbors, relatives and co-workers when we head out the door in below-zero wind chills to get in a run, we runners have always thought we were pretty sharp. Numbers at the marathon trials proved it. Ninety-four percent of the qualifiers were college graduates, versus 24 percent for the general population.

Gotta go. Sub-zero wind chills beckon and so does my run. MR