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.

Dancing in the Dark

On a couple of evenings a week, if one of my neighbors look out their back windows they might notice some strange activity coming from my backyard. If they look closely enough they just might see some silhouettes bouncing off the side of my house. And if they look even closer they will see someone bending and stretching and hopping across the grass. These shadows are a result of my current challenge: finding opportunities to exercise. I'm still running on the weekends. And during the first couple of weeks of November I have been fortunate enough to get in at least one weekday run, yet the past 10 days have been a struggle.

Part of the problem is that I picked up a middle school coaching job at the end of October. Before last basketball season I retired as my school's varsity girls basketball coach. After coaching at the high school level for 21 years and the last 14 as a varsity coach, I was ready for something else in my life. I haven't missed it much, and yet not having that extra money has been an adjustment for our family. Last year my athletic director needed some help for the boys middle school team. Being a good team player and knowing that we could use the money for the holidays, my wife and I figured I should coach. I enjoyed it. Low stress. Good pay. And the six-week season ends before Christmas. And now I am back for a second year.

This year however the coaching challenges my training schedule. So to compensate for my lack of time during the week, I am moving to the darkness of my backyard a couple of times a week. I have a series of stretches and sport-specific muscle building exercises I use. I am using a training video I found on the American Birkebeiner website. It's good stuff. And most importantly, the exercises can be completed in the darkness of night in about 30-45 minutes. Although these exercises don't help my cardiovascular much, they still keep me strong, and focused, and motivated.

There are two different videos that I dedicate most of my time, but the one I am including here is my favorite. Although my backyard does not have a hill, I still find these to be effective exercises on the flats. And obviously these exercises work well on the hills of Elver Park.

So as I work my way through the last few weeks of the basketball season I will continue to dedicate a bit of time every week to a little dancing in the dark.

Tonight I'll be dancing beneath a moon three days shy of full.

Confirmation Letter: I'm In

I don't know whether to be scared, or excited, but it is now official and there is no looking back. The American Birkebeiner association has my money and I have my wave placement.

The postcard tells me I am assigned to Wave 8.

This means that an estimated 6,000 skiers will take off before me. Together those 6,000 skiers will chop, grind, and destroy any good snow in front of me...but it also means that only about 1,000 skiers will start behind me. The pessimist in me says that only about 1,000 skiers need to pass me in order for me to finish last (my greatest fear), and the optimist says I will have a very good chance of passing more people than pass me and leading towards a possible top 5800 finish.

Summer Has Arrived...Finally

Over the last five to six weeks of the school year I was finding it difficult to teach, train, and write. Something had to give...Finishing up a school year is always challenging. We rush to get through the curriculum; We agonize over essays that must be graded; And we continue to try and motivate disinterested students. Even the best, most conscientious students struggle to stay focused. And as teachers we simply put in long hours trying finish the year with positive results.

This year my task became even more challenging by my pursuit of the American Birkebeiner--by my seemingly endless training. So many times over the past few weeks I wanted to sit and write, but each time I tried I could only stare helplessly at the screen. I couldn't justify writing when I had so much school work to do.

So today I give a quick summary of the past few weeks and a pledge to share thoughts and training itineraries over the next few months:

May started grandly as I ran over 20 miles the first week (my best week to date). Although I only finished the month with 50.5 miles, I added the bicycle to the weekly routine, pushing the monthly miles to just over 90. The Madison area is filled with terrific biking, and as the weather warmed I became more drawn to biking. It's a great change-up, and more importantly biking is good for the quads, which must be strong for the race.

School ended on June 10th and since then I have been active everyday (except Sunday). On Sunday we travelled to Blueberry Lake to spend the week here. Nothing to do except enjoy the lake and the woods. The kids sleep in, my wife reads, and I run through the woods with Ezra.

On Monday morning I began the week by running around the lake. It is about a six mile run, flat and quiet. A pretty simple run. I saw more wildlife than people, and simply enjoyed an hour's escape in the woods.

And now that summer is here, most of my mornings will be filled with sweat and toil!

My Year of Living Stenuously

When I first started this training venture Allan Stellar over at 365 Walks! asked if I had read Bill McKibben's Long Distance: Testing the Limits of Body and Spirit in a Year of Living Strenuously. McKibben's book documents his year long commitment to train as an elite cross-country ski racer. It is an interesting book, one that I enjoyed, and one I could obviously connect with.

However, besides the clear reality that McKibben started thin and fit, and I started soft and chubby, there are many more important logistical differences between McKibben's year of living strenuously and my year of living strenuously.

• McKibben was 37 years old when his training began; I am 50 (enough said).

• McKibben began his training during a time in which he already spent many winter days skiing in the woods, often travelling as far as 20 km. This last winter I made it 10 km once, and throughout that ski always felt as if I were on the edge of physical collapse.

• McKibben appears to have taken a year off in order to dedicate himself to training like an elite athlete; for me, taking a year off is not even a remote pipedream. I must work to provide, so my training must happen in conjunction with my job. However, since I do teach I am only a few weeks away from being able to spend much of my early mornings dedicated to living strenuously.

• McKibben trained all year with a world class cross-country ski and fitness trainer. His trainer developed a training schedule for him and stayed after him throughout the year to make certain he stayed on task. I am reading lots of books, tracking my training, and trying to figure out my own amateurish schedule.

• Early in his year of living strenuously McKibben worked with an Olympic trainer in Lake Placid. He was placed on a treadmill, hooked up to lots of monitors and machines, and had his VO2 max tested. I test my VO2 max by seeing how many times and how fast I can run up the hill without collapsing. And more to the point...I am not even certain what the hell VO2 max means.
  

• During the middle of summer, when heat and rain are prevalent over cold and snow, McKibben flew to Australia to find snow and cross-country ski racing. Not gonna happen here...my training will consist of dry-land sweating and grinding.

• Around Thanksgiving he flew to a cross-country training camp near Yellowstone National Park in order to spend a week working on his technique and to try and get an early start on his skiing legs. Nope, that's not gonna happen either...I have neither the money nor the time to pull something as grandious as this.

• McKibben eventually skied the Norwegian Birkebeiner, a 58 kilometer race in Lillehammer, Norway; I will ski the American Birkebeiner, a 50 kilometer race in Hayward, WI (about five hours from my front door).

• As McKibben's level of fitness increased, his goal evolved into finishing within the top half of his age group (which he did). My goal will always be to simply finish the damn race and then to cherish a pint or two (which I will).
  

And yet with all this said I enjoyed McKibben's yarn. It was especially interesting to read within the first couple of months of my own training. He is honest, funny, self-deprecating, and remains fairly upbeat, even when an aggressive form of brain cancer prematurely takes his father's life. It is a book I am sure I will revisit often over the next several months. And in the meantime, I must go train.

Gradual Progress: Proof

On March 17th, about three weeks after I announced my intent to pursue the American Birkebeiner, I weighed in at 199.5 pounds. I am not a huge guy, and after losing some pounds the previous year my weight had increased (much) higher than I was comfortable with. Since reaching a high of 207 pounds in June of 2008, I vowed to never get back into the 200 pound range again. The weight gain frustrated me, because I was feeling like I was in decent shape. I was running or walking nearly everyday and was trying to watch what I ate. I was in training, and yet it didn't seem to matter as my weight slowly ticked north.

So on March 17th I vowed to change my lifestyle...mainly my eating and drinking habits. No more Coca-Cola, no more huge glasses of milk, no more late night snacks, no sugar packed cookies. Combined with my running, I slowly started taking off the pounds. My belt moved to the next hole, and my runs slowly gained length and elevation. Three times in the past week I ran my four hill Elver Park loop, each time getting just a little bit faster. The loop is about 5 miles and it is challenging. I also found a website that allows me very easily to log my eating habits. It's working. This morning I weighed in at 189 pounds. Every week I am feeling more fit. And lighter. And gaining confidence that I will indeed ski the Birkie next February.

The Countdown Begins!

Today is my 50th birthday, only 372 days until the The American Birkebeiner. One year and seven days to get fit enough to ski 50 km's. Here we go!

What is Birkyness?

On a most basic level, Birkyness is nothing more than a cheap ripoff of the movie In Pursuit of Happyness. Metaphorically however, Birkyness defines a way of life. Or at least a way of life which I want to chase.

On Saturday February 20, 2010, I turn 50. Obviously it's a big deal ... and something that seems to have snuck up on me. Sure I could see it coming, but still I am having a hard time fathoming the idea that I am 50. And yet as I reflect on this milestone, and the reality of being a half century old, I am struck by my desire to do some things. You know, to mark some things off of my life list.

I would like to ....

• Hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon (and back out)
• Earn "The Ruahine Tramping Club Badge" by hiking in New Zealand with my college buddy Robb Kloss (check out his awesome blog: http://ruahineramblings.blogspot.com/)
• Hike the John Muir Trail (hopefully parts of it with my blogging friend Allan over at http://threehundredsixtyfivewalks.blogspot.com/)
• Hike to the top of Half Dome
• See Denali
• Canoe a remote northern river
• Bike 100 miles in a single day
• Ski the American Birkebeiner.

It is not difficult to see that each of these dreams share one common and necessary ingredient - a high level of fitness. Something I lost while in my 40's.

So to me, Birkyness is quite simple to define and quite difficult to achieve. Birkyness is about being fit enough to hike any mountain, canoe any river, bike any trail whenever and wherever I want.

The way I figure it, if I can ski the American Birkebeiner in any given February, then I will have prepared myself to start checking off the items on the list in any given adventure.

The Journey

February 1992:

My pursuit of the American Birkebeiner started on a snowy February day in 1992. It began during my first year of teaching in Medford, Wi when some friends invited me to Hayward for Birkie weekend. I did not know what the weekend would bring. I knew there was going to be several thousand skiers hanging around this small northern town. I was mainly along for the party. I didn't know people were this crazy about cross-country skiing.

Growing up I was a downhill skier. Grabbed a tow rope, held on tight, and went to the top - Headwall - that's what the locals called it. Then pointed the skis down hill and went as fast as I could. Probably took about 15 - 20 seconds to get to the bottom, maybe less. Then did it over again. All day long. It was all about speed. As far as cross-country skiing went, I had skied a bit during the college and Colorado years, all classical, mainly moving slowly through the woods. Mainly taking girls on dates. These Medford friends however were hardcore. Every weekend they were out on the trails...training for the race, something I just didn't understand. Until the moment the race began.