CHAPTER 15
Here at the South Pole we are in a bit of a pickle as far as time goes. I’m not talking about the passage of time- it doesn’t go any faster or slower here, and our manager certainly finds plenty of it during the day to make us work- no, what I am talking about is the problem of what time it is, specifically, what time the clock shows. Technically, the 24 meridians delineating the world’s time zones converge at the either end of the earth’s axis. For us, the question of “what time is it?” is merely a matter of where you happen to be positioned relative to the South Pole. If Kacey and I were to take a stroll out to the Pole marker for a photo, as we often do, and found ourselves standing to either side, with the Pole in between, I could wish her a pleasant morning, and in the same breath declare, in good conscience, that I was ready for my evening cocktail. Living here gives a whole new meaning to the ol’ “It’s five o’clock somewhere” justification.
To solve this temporal dilemma, and to keep everyone at the station from getting sauced at all hours of the day, the South Pole has been officially designated the same time zone as New Zealand, which is conveniently in sync with McMurdo and the Antarctic Program’s base of operations in Christchurch. This little fact normally does not carry too much significance for us, aside from trying to judge an appropriate time of day to call home, but on December 31st, right about at 11:59pm, it happened to become very important, for we were poised, along with a small fraction of the world, to be the first to step into 2012 (It turns out that there are actually a few cheeky South Pacific island nations that have officially ’moved’ themselves from one side of the International Date Line to the other, thereby jumping from the back of the “bringing in the New Year” line to the front, and technically trumping our claim to be first by 1 hour. But if everybody just went around redrawing time zones, the world would be a mess, so I for one choose to not acknowledge this most devious of publicity stunts).
Being such a prestigious position to hold, leading humanity into the New Year and all, the station does its best to represent, and throws a huge party, complete with a stage, strobe lights, four live bands, costumes of all sorts, decorations, and champagne. Well, we actually had to buy the champagne from the store, but they did make a point of stocking the shelves with bubbley a few days before in preparation.
The party was a blast, and right at midnight, with champagne glasses chinking, people kissing all around, and the elated, ear deafening din of spinny noise makers, kazoos, and those funny rolled up blowers that remind me of an elephant’s nose, Kacey and I looked at each other with the same exact expression: This is perfect, this is just how it is supposed to be, and we wouldn’t give this experience up for anything in the world. And then, or I guess I should say now, it was 2012. A few more hours of dancing, and then we ran out to the Pole to take a memorable first photo of the year.
Aside from the party and celebration, New Year’s Eve was also the day of another “race around the world”, this one much longer though… It is a tradition that the men’s and women’s winners of the real Race around the World, the one held on Christmas Eve, get a free trip to McMurdo to participate in their annual marathon. But, last year, on the day before the marathon, when the winners were supposed to fly to McMurdo, an awful storm blew in and the flight had to be canceled. Normally, this would have been only a moderate disappointment for the lucky two who were northward bound, but last year, the male winner was actually a professional runner, who had taken a job as a humble steward here at the South Pole, for the sole purpose of getting a chance to run a marathon in Antarctica. I can imagine how distraught he must have been, seeing his dreams slip away with the onset of the storm, especially knowing what he had had to sacrifice in the dish-pit merely as a means to an end for realizing his ambitions.
He was a resilient man though, and didn’t let misfortune in the form of a few snowflakes alter his destiny. He cajoled a few of the station’s other runners into action, and together they organized the first ever South Pole Marathon. Four runners completed the course that first year, with Ricky, the professional, setting the record at 4 hours and 2 minutes. Now, that may seem slow for a man who regularly runs, and wins, marathons all over the world with sub 2:30 times, but here at the Pole, conditions are not all that conducive to running, let alone any activity outside. To start, we are sitting at 9,300 feet above sea level, but due to the thinning of the atmosphere at this extreme latitude caused by the spin of the earth, the barometric altitude is somewhere closer to 10,500 feet. Add to that the -15° F average January temperature, -35° F wind-chill, and crumbly snowpack course, and you can see reason for Ricky’s subpar finishing time. All said though, he was the first person ever to complete a marathon at the South Pole.
Now, the reason I am relating all of this is to give background and credence to my next statement… that Kacey and I are now two of only eleven people to ever run a marathon at the South Pole! The 2nd annual South Pole Marathon was officially held on the morning of New Year’s Eve, with four more hearty Polies completing the 26.2 mile course. Unfortunately, Kacey and I had to work that day. But, like Ricky, we were resilient. Knowing that we couldn’t run with everyone else, our first plan was actually to run the marathon on Christmas Eve, following the Race around the World, but as you can tell from the video included with that post on Christmas, the conditions were truly appalling, so after about eight miles we decided to bag it, and try another day. Well, that day came last Saturday, on January 7th, when we were both given the day off as a replacement for working New Year’s, and along with our fellow kitchen mate, Jase the cook, we set off on our own “galley version” of the South Pole Marathon.
There are not actually that many places where the snow is packed enough to comfortably run outside here at the Pole, so to accumulate 26.2 miles, we basically ran up and down the 2 mile long skiway a bunch of times. But don’t be mislead by my use of the word “comfortably”- yes, the skiway is groomed regularly to accommodate the frequent planes, but even on the hardest packed sections, it is more akin to running on a sandy beach, rather than terra firma. At one end of the skiway, our awesome scientist and runner friend Sara (who was the women’s winner for both the Race around the World and the SP Marathon), placed a duffle bag full of warm drinks and caloric goodies to keep us energized and motivated. The three of us ran at our own paces, but routinely regrouped so that we would finish together, which we did, hand-in-hand at the Geographic South Pole, where we promptly collapsed in exhaustion.
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