Race Day...360 Some Days Later

PREFACE:

Before I begin the actually post I want to briefly discuss the past two weeks. Basically it is an explanation why I have not been noting my progress. On February 12th I skied the Pre-Birkie. It is a 42 km ski race and is a prelude to The American Birkebeiner. Two days before the Pre-Birkie the Governor of Wisconsin proposed a bill that would cut teacher's salaries (and all public sector union workers) by about 8.5%. We are a two educator family, so it obviously mattered to us. The bill also proposed the elimination of collection bargaining rights that have been in place for nearly 60 years. If passed my voice in my own classroom could be severely limited. Therefore instead of spending the last two weeks training and blogging about my year long adventure, I was instead participating in demonstrations and letter writing campaigns trying to save my profession. Although our Governor did affect my training schedule, there was no way I was going to let him take this race away from me.

One of 21 waves...over 8,700 skiers this year.

RACE DAY: WAVE 8

Last night I slept horribly, and today I awoke in a bundle of nerves. I'm not sure if it was taking the past two weeks of training off, or if it was just the fact that I was now facing something that I had been preparing to attack for about a year. The morning began with a cold bus ride from Hayward to Cable. Once at the starting grounds I had to wait for almost three hours before my wave was released to the trail. The nerves never really went away while sitting (and sleeping) in Telemark Lodge.

The first 23 km of the race are brutal. Hill after hill after hill awaits the skiers. Within the first 1.5 km we ski on what is called the "power lines." At this point the course is wide, but the only view afforded  the skier is a simple steady climb. It's not pretty. Then after a very short downhill we again begin to move steadily upwards. We reached the high point of the trail quite early in the race, at about 13 km (fire tower hill), yet the next ten are just as difficult, even if they do drop in elevation a bit. Still though by the time I reached Hwy OO, the finish of the Kortelopet, I was feeling pretty good. After the OO food stop the course became quite manageable for the next 8.8 km. Lots of rolling hills, but no severe climbs, and several screaming downhills. I felt strong and I was having fun. Felt it was in the bag. We were definitely losing elevation as we made the long descent into Hayward. And that was encouraging.

But then at about 40 km the course turned upwards again. Skiers everywhere, most of them just stepping up the hills, trying to stay off of each others poles. Very little gliding. People were tired. Then we crossed over Rosie's Field and towards our last food stop. I asked a guy standing next to me if we were done with the hills yet? He smiled and said "first time?" I nodded. He said we have one more--"Bitch Hill." And it started immediately after the food station. It probably isn't even as steep as the other hills, but I am assuming its name comes because we face it after already skiing 44 km.

However after struggling to make it to the top of "Bitch Hill" skiers are provided with an encouraging sight. Below us in the distance sits Hayward and its water tower. And the only way to get there is to go downhill and across Lake Hayward. Still, after skiing this far, the end is probably about 30 minutes away as those last few kilometers are pure hell (at least one with my ability).

Taken yesterday: the finish line looking back down Main Street.

And then after skiing across Lake Hayward comes the coolest part of the race, and one of the things that drew me to this race so many years ago. The finish down Hayward's Main Street. Coming across the lake the signs tease the tired skier... 2 km left and then 1 km (1000 meters). And then 500 meters. And then we climb off the lake and turn right onto Main Street. At this point we can see the huge FINISH sign that hangs across the entire street. And fans surrounding the finish area, cheering and offering support. A beautiful sight! An emotional sight!

And so I skated up Main Street...exhausted...ecstatic...miserable...and grinning from ear to ear... I am certain I didn't look very good, but I did not care.

Tonight I can call myself an American Birkebeiner finisher.