Пишут вот про такую еще развлекуху.

SKI MOUNTAINEERING RACING, or "skimo" as it's often called, is
neither skiing nor mountaineering, at least in the traditional sense.
You gotta use skis, true. And go up and over mountains. But the
events are are more like running an ultramarathon uphill in the
dead of winter in your underwear. <...>

Sam and I had done fairly well, all things considered for an
off-the-couch effort, but something strange had happened out
there. Somewhere amid the lethal winds and 7-plus hours of
aerobic agony, and somehow despite my hands freezing and getting
passed by teams like we were standing still, I'd completely
gotten hooked. Skimo was badass! And I wanted to get better at it.

A few days later, with all the memories from the race morphing
into good ones, I did something that some might consider truly
idiotic—I signed up for an even more punishing event: The Grand
Traverse, kicking off at midnight on Friday, March 28.
No ski-area racing this time; the course ventures through
seriously remote and rugged backcountry. In other words, forget
the cushy support stations with shots of whiskey.

Сижу и вынашиваю планы как в это все вляпаться.

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