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The Birkie

[I'm writing this watching the 50k olympics race. This is one heck of a way to blog. We'll see if their time—yeah, it's classic—beats mine.]

I like racing. I may not be that great at it, but if you read my race reports, I generally have a good time and come away with a positive experience. Races are generally well-run and, this year, have been in good shape. There's been little to complain about.

And yet, the Birkie blows every other race away.

The grooming is better. The trail is better. The volunteers aren't better, but considering the task they have to undertake, it's very impressive. The finish is unparalleled. And then there the traditions and aura which surround the race. The governor at the start (this year). Thousands of skiers at Telemark. Some of the best skiers in the world at the front of the pack. Special bibs for twenty and thirty year Birkie skiers—although not that special since there are so many of them.

Wave after wave of skiers climbing up the power lines and in to the woods. The sledders cheering and scoring falls. The, uh, ladies, music and beads on Bitch Hill. The lake, the sun, the wind. The cheering crowds across Highway 63, and then two blocks where you are propelled by thousands up Main Street to the finish.

Is there anything better?

This was my fifth Birkebeiner, and, except for 2007, each has been great. My results, maybe, were not what I would have liked (especially in 2008) but everything else—superb. And this year was the best yet.

I took a half day at work on Friday, put in 30 minutes at Como with Collin and drove north. Macalester had 12 skiers (8 Birkie, 4 Korte) and the plan had been to stay at one of our skier's houses in Spooner and then drive up on race morning. Actually, the plan was to go pick up bibs on Friday, drive back to Spooner for a feed, and then drive up early Saturday. Leaving around 5:30.

Everything was planned out and ready to go until I got an email from Collin that a friend of his dad's lived in Cable. He asked me if I'd be interested. The guy lives near the intersection of Telemark Road and County Road M. "Is that close to the start?" he asked. Uh, yes. Quite. "Would we be interested in staying there?" Uh, yes. Definitely.

So we changed plans. The rest of the team was starting in late waves and could pick their bibs up in the morning. Collin and I were starting at 8:25—and were more than happy to get our bibs the day before. So Collin and I hit Como and then headed north. I was pretty spacey all weekend, especially about myself. I think because I had to try to herd a dozen cats—er, college kids—around, in two separate races (the Birkie and the Korte) and three cars. Not that easy.

So, I forgot to put back on the gas cap on the car (and, more egregiously, forgot to write down the mileage), and that was sort of the start of me leaving things places and forgetting little things all week. Nothing major—and everyone else got where they were going too. I was just a little spazzy.

Anyway, after several pit stops (hyrdation!), including a few where Collin almost exploded, we got to Telemark. The house we were staying in was all of, oh, 500m from the parking lot where we'd have to park. But not the regular lot (Como), the lot for people coming from the east. It's two miles from the start by road, but because you can cut across the Cable airport approach, it's less than half a mile by foot. And since the road gridlocks in the morning, it's worth it to walk if the weather is tolerable.

We parked at Telemark and I saw a mostly e-quaintance, Colin Reuter, who is going to be running a camera in his drink belt during the race. He's done it before for some races, and lots of bike races, and I wanted to see if I could be on his video of the race (and Scott Brown's). I was at least excited to see it. The last time I saw him was the last 10k of the Great Glen to Bretton Woods death march in 2007; I realized I'd skied against him last year and emailed some, following his well-written blog. I realized he was walking by and said "you're Colin. I read your blog." Once I introduced myself, it was slightly less awkward. I saw Bill Dossett, of Bike Share fame, who rode up with Piotr Bednarski, of ski coaching fame. Bill said riding up with Piotr was fun, as he spent the whole time on the phone talking about wax (Collin: "You didn't find out what he waxed?" Me: "We have no iron or wax. Would it matter?") and then trying to get one of his athletes, Laura Spector, from Vancouver to Estonia via Newark and a blizzard. (Supposedly she made it.) That sounds entertaining.

We got bibs. Collin was bib 61, I was bib 180 (based on last year's finish times). Collin's skied in the elite wave before, but had never picked up his bib. I'd never skied in the elite wave. So we marched in to the bib pickup room and over to the elite table. There's never a line, since it's so much smaller. And you just feel—pretty awesome. Yeah, my goal for the race was to not be relegated from the elite wave.

The guy we were staying with worked at another local resort a few miles down County M, and we went to eat there, after picking up the keys from our host (who then went our for "a few barley pops"). It took forever. First, there was a 20 minute wait for the dining room. Which was half-empty. Then it took forever to get our food. More than half an hour. For pasta. So instead of eating at 7:00, we ate at 8:00. No, we were not happy about this. But we kept drinking water.

Ten minutes after the food came (at least it was free) we were done. I stopped by the bar for half a shot of their cheapest whiskey—to keep my water bottle from freezing in the zero-degree weather in the morning. They'd only sell me a full shot—so I left half on the bar. Oh, well, it was still pretty baller. We drove back to our adopted home—it kind of smelled, okay, reeked, of cigarette smoke, but was a price to pay for a later wake up. Collin watched a movie and I read. I'd told him he probably shouldn't watch anything much longer than an hour and a half. About 45 minutes in to "A Knight's Tale" I picked it up and said "you do know that this is more than two hours long, right?" He said it was an hour and a half. "Nope. That's 132 minutes." I laid out my clothes and went to bed. I'm rarely this relaxed before a race (no internet).

I was in bed by 10:30—eight hours before wake-up call—and slept in fits, drinking and peeing all night. Oh, yes, you did need to know that. We were up around 6:00 as the lights of the cars turning on to Telemark Road started shining through the window—there's a lot more traffic than 6:00 a.m. on a normal Saturday. We had a relatively easy morning and I was dressed and ready to go a bit after 7:00. We'd have had to leave Spooner at 5:30 had we stayed there. This was very relaxed. I had my drink belt—I've never raced with one but, no harm, no foul—and was otherwise well dressed for temperatures around 0 which were to rise to 20 during the race.

With traffic on the road and no buses to flag down, we walked to the start. A few hundred meters walking on the road, and then the cut through to the start. Luckily, we were both wearing shoes; those with ski boots were slipping and sliding around a bit. And we had time to hang out at the start. I ran a bit, changed boots, and skied the warm-up circle—about a 800m loop because no one could cross the timing wire 300m from the start. I watched the classic start, and then went to pack my bag for the truck.

We had 15 minute to get in the start pen—enter from the sides, not waiting in the back like other waves—and I got in the mob of people. One of the great things about the elite wave is that, yes, it's an elite wave, but you get to go out exactly the same as the other top skiers. I stood next to the women's winner, and the top men didn't get any special treatment. Everyone stood there with their skis, poles, drink belts and—little else. There was no pushing or shoving—the top 30 get to the start line, everyone else is ready to go behind them.

Skis were marked, and we lined up. I lined up at the back of the pack—no need to kill myself out of the front. My game plan was to ski the 12k nice and easy to high point. I knew the trail, and I knew I didn't want to blow up on the early hills. Take feeds early, have energy gel between high point and OO (or both) and then ski harder on the big hills late in the race.

We lined up, the start gates went up as the gun went off (better than at Mora, the gates went up without issue) and we were off. And my skis were fast. Everyone seemed to be chugging along well, but I was passing people on the downhills, which I rarely do (less weight on longer skis than most). I thought about changing my race plan—going hard early with my speed—but it seemed riskier. I didn't have the training to pull it off on the hills (I need more strength training) and I didn't want to ski differently than I planned.

But, boy, were my skis fast. The whole course was extremely slick. I'd thought, with some snow midweek, it might be slower, but they'd groomed the new snow and the very-slightly transformed snow just enough to make it firm but speedy. Still, I was catching people on downhills. A few people had faster skis than I, but I had faster skis than most. It was fun. I thought about pushing hard—the front didn't seem to be going too hard at first—but didn't want to blow up on the first hill. I've done that before. It's not fun.

This, and the fact that I was probably sitting in 150th place and it was still crowded. I passed a few people but didn't make up much ground before the hill. Yes, the hill. There are a lot of hills on the Birkie, but the power lines don't even have named hills. They're just basically a long set of hills and you don't get eased in to it. Again, the plan was not to die, so I went in to an easy V1—easier when you have fast skis—through the hills.

I started to realize it was fast at the first feed. I came over the top of power lines—by the beating drums—and went to take the first cup of feed. I was going so fast that I didn't even try to take the near cup, but glided through the whole feed and was still bombing along when I grabbed the last cup. (I've gotten really good at taking feeds at speed. I wish there was a race of just taking feeds. I'd kick ass. Apparently in late waves the feeds back up as people stop. In the elite wave, no one stops.)

The hills rose and fell. I was going so fast through Timber Trail at 9k that I didn't even try for the feed—usually I've lost most of my speed by the feed but not this time. My mind wasn't really thinking "oh, boy, it's really fast, we're going to have a fast time" but more "oh, I am going fast at these certain specific times in the race." I didn't realize that everyone was flying. Another of these moments was when we came around Bobblehead/bubblehead Hill. It's the trickiest on the trail, but usually step-turned by all the elites. Not today. I took one step but had so much speed going in to the hill that I—and everyone else—skidded. Collin, nearer the top of the race, said he step turned and almost took a digger.

My skis were still fast, but not as fast (for the record, Start green no fluoro, LF Start green, Rex stuff Ahvo told us to use, Fast Wax green, FC7, on medium flex RCS with a Finn Sisu fine grind). I settled in with a group of about four guys and we picked up the hills and laid them down. There were more rolls than I remembered until we skied up to High Point. Again, I wanted to feel good at the top. I actually skied faster than most of the folks I was around, but with 38k to go I didn't want to attack.

And we skied on. Down the hills, and just before Boedecker Road Hill the first ladies came by. I jumped  behind them—no need to waste a ride, and stayed with the all the way in to the climb to OO. They set a good, but not brutal, pace and I was happy to stick with them. One of these years I'll be ahead of them further, but this wasn't too bad—they made up two minutes in 22k, meaning they'd be five minutes ahead of me overall. This boded rather well for my elite wave hopes.

I took a goo at OO, well, right before. I took it well, but as usual it was kind of gross. I had some water at the feed and was happy, with the top women just ahead. I planned to take it relatively easy through the next, flatter part of the race, and feel out the competition on the 29k hill. I went in to the hill feeling okay, but was ready for some water up top. My skis were slower now, still fast, but not bomber. I skied with a pack, including a fellow who had a birchleggings bib—he'd skied 20+ Birkies—and no technique. He had a short, ab-driven V1 and almost never went to a V2, or even a long V1. He must have been in great shape, as he was working twice as hard as I was on the flats.

In any case, I crested the hill and reached for my water bottle. It was a store-bought bottle—I'd brought my drink belt in to the store and tried several, and was easy to get in and out of the holster. And it came out, easily. It was too easy. I went to take a drink, but realized I was slowing down as the hill wasn't as steep as I'd thought. I went to pole. And the water bottle, which hadn't seen my lips, slipped out if my hands and in to the track.

I cursed. Yes, I did. Oh, well, it was 2k to the next feed and I felt okay. I just had to not miss the feeds. Still, it would have been nice to rehydrate with some nice, real Gatorade feed (not the HEED crap they have) and a little whiskey melted in. Shucks. No one picked it up and I was over it. Everything was just so fast.

I felt fine through Gravel Pit and along the rolling hills in towards Mosquito Brook. Boy, were those hills screaming fast. I took the feed at Mosquito Brook (as with the trail run this fall, the feeders there seemed to be afraid of speed feeding) and got ready for the climb up after OO. Right before the hill, I saw Scott Brown, with his head-camera on. Rolling? I don't know.

But it was impetus to stay ahead of him. When you're not winning the race, you might as well mug for the camera. I turned and smiled, and then showed him how it was done. I was in front of the camera for most of Mosquito Brook Hill—he was slightly faster than me on the downhills. Still, I stayed in front of him (I'm hoping for a role in the upcoming picture) before leading up the steep-but-short Bitch.

Now, in later waves, Bitch Hill is almost a celebration. Beads, music, the bitches running all over handing out beads. There's music and cheering for us faster folks, but not much else. Which is for the better. After the hill are some nice downhills before the sneaky hills near 77 we ran down to the last road crossing. The snow was a bit slower in the warm sun, but I was surprisingly not overheated and happy. And we had 5.5k to go, with 44.5 down. It seemed to me we'd just started.

We were skiing with a couple more women now, but hadn't seen too many. I'd seen a couple fast Wave 1 guys, but, again, figured I was somewhere between 150 and 175th. I didn't want to take any risks and die on the lake, so I took it pretty easy up Duffy's Hill and then had decent skis, although other folks had faster skis, down the hill. I think it was the grind in the warmer snow, and had no real complaints.

The lake was, well, the lake. Sadly, I was just behind camera guy so I didn't get on video across. I was right behind Kristina Owen, who'd won Mora, and had a nice pack to get some help across the lake, meaning that I had something left for the sprint. We dropped a couple folks off the lake and I got ready for the sprint; a gander behind me showed no one catching up. Okay. This is it.

The snow around the Marketplace was rather soft as usual, as was 63, and I readied to sprint Main Street. As always, the crowds were great, and a strong V2 got me by a couple skiers, but, again, just behind Scott Brown, so no video. Too bad. I skied across the finish and tried to find the clock, finally seeing the time of 2:23.

Wait. 2:23? Really? Last year I skied the race in 2:38. The winner wasn't much below 2:23. So I was rather pleased with my result, and probably could have gone faster. I never really got that close to bonking. I found Jakob and Collin and saw some other folks I know (Alex Jospe representing Newton—16th—very well) and we sat in the food tent and ate some soup and I changed. Jakob had been yelled at for changing in the food tent and told me I'd get yelled at. I told them I'd channel my inner Boston and not care/cuss them out. Oh, yeah, do you think I was amped up from the race?

And then we executed our post-race plan. It was warm and sunny outside. Should we sit inside and eat/drink in the feed tent? Or walk to the grocery store, get some fine beverages and Girl Scout Cookies and go out on the lake to cheer people on. It was an easy decision. On the way to the lake, I watched the leader board for results. They started around 60th. Then 70th. Then 80th. Okay, I won't be on here for a while. Then 140th. 150th. A lot of close times. 170th and they were still in the 2:21s. Would I be relegated? When did I come in again? Then 180th. And there I was: 189th. One more guy would qualify out of the second wave. 10 spots below last year. But still in the elite wave. Had I known how close it'd be, however, I'd have gone harder.

Other Macalester skiers did well, including a few sub-3:00 finishes from the 10th wave (not as impressive this year as most, but still fast) and a 32d from Collin. That's impressive, and his 2:04:57 time would not only win the Birkie most years, but was faster than the winning time at the olympics this morning. Considering there were several "ringers" from Norway and Italy, Collin was about the 25th American in the race. Considering he didn't do much of anything ski specific before January, and most of the guys above him are on development teams, it's a very impressive result. Good on you, Collin!

And then we went out on the lake. I've never watched the race much before, but it was a blast. I ran along with Mac skiers as they came in, cheering and taking pictures. I tried to get on Colin Reuter's camera (apparently it was out of "film" and I was drunk) in addition to Scott Brown's. Every time I ran after a skier was an all-out sprint, with a couple beverages in me and 50k, too. It hurt a lot, but it was a blast. Collin and I ate Thin Mints, drank beer, and cheered for everyone. I put on my skis and skied up and down the lake beside the trail (it had been plowed and had an inch on top and was maybe faster than the trail. I cheered all the Mac skiers, skiing (easier than running, and it would only be illegal if I were "pacing" elite wavers who were in an FIS race) with them as they came in. And there was a couple sitting in lawn chairs along the course with a Jim Beam shot. It's probably good that it was an hour back to the car and we weren't going anywhere for a while.

Finally all the Mac skiers came in, and we had some food and got on the buses. A few hops, skips and jumps later we were at the house of one of our skiers—a Swede whose parents live here now—for Swedish meatballs and assorted food. A lovely, long day ended with me parsing finishing data and then going to sleep.

It's the Birkie. Breathe it. Live it. And next year, still in the elite wave. With impetus to go faster.

Ari's unofficial guide to the Birkie

Let me first point out that I am in no way qualified to write a guide to the Birkie. I've only skied it four times (hundreds have 20 under their belts, er, special-colored bibs), I'm not from Northwest Wisconsin, heck, I don't even cheer for the Packers (but I do drink beer). Still, it seems no one has posted any type of Birkie guide. Since it's a race that a lot of out-of-towners come in for, it seems prudent to have one. So with apologies to people who know more than I do, here goes, in bullet-list form:

BEFORE SATURDAY

• Be early. This goes for pretty much every step of the race. The Birkie is incredibly well organized, a testament to its staff and the huge volunteer corps which itself is as large as the town of Hayward. Still, with 8000+ skiers involved, everything takes a bit longer than it might at a pick-up race in March. Or any other ski race in the western hemisphere. Be patient, and give yourself a bit of extra time every step of the way.

• Get there. There are many ways to get to Hayward. Whatever you choose, make sure you are on Highway 63. Unless you really know what you are doing, taking back roads is very unlikely to save you any time.

• Listen to WOJB. The official race station is 88.9 WOJB. It's a community station broadcasting off the local reservation. It has eclectic and quirky programming. Starting on Friday, they broadcast wax tips and Birkie-themed music (it's very corny). It will either get you in the mood for the race or drive you batty.

• Bib pick-up. Get your materials before the race, if possible. If you're in the tenth wave, you'll probably be okay navigating Telemark the morning of the race. If you're in the second wave, do you really want to deal with an extra half hour in the morning before your 8:45 start? If you pick up your bib on Friday, you can ski the trail (before 3:00), get some freebies at the expo, and find all sorts of other skiers. Plus, if anything is amiss, there's a lot more time to fix it.

• Grooming and skiing on Friday. This year, grooming will take place the night before, using five (5) Pisten Bullies. That's right. Five. Usually the course is closed for several days pre-race, but with the base they have this year I'm assuming it's solid enough not to worry about it. However, at 3:00 on Friday, the courses, and that means the Birkie Trail, the classic trail and the Korte trail, close. If you need to ski after that point, the North End Trail, Seeley Trails and Telemark Trails are your best bet, but stay off the Birkie Trail. Drummond Trails, Rock Lake and Mukwanago are a bit further afield. See Skinnyski for more info.

As for the grooming, well, it will be awesome. It always is. Expect a firm but pliable skate deck, which, as long as it is cold enough, should stay solid during the race. Will some hills get mashed potato-ey (up) and icy (down) by the eighth wave? Probably. But where else do 8000 skiers ski a single trail in a day? The groomers know what they are doing. Tracks will be solid and set on downhills. There will be no groomer ridges. These guys groom the trail all season long. They're pros. (Exception: road crossings. We'll get to that.)

PRE-RACE

• Busing. On the last Saturday in February, the Birkie operates the second or third largest bus system in the state of Wisconsin. It's efficient and they have a lot of experience doing it. Still, things take a while. Normally, you can drive from Hayward to Telemark in under half an hour. On Birkie morning, leave an hour and a half, minimum. If you park at Como, remember: everything looks long, but everything moves. Buses comes in threes. The traffic in to the lot creeps along, but it creeps. Get your spot, get your skis and get on a bus. Unless you have an elite wave bib, people won't let you cut in line. If you do, well, people might let you cut in line. The best advice is to plan ahead and leave extra time. And if you are going out early, use the buses out of Hayward. It's very convenient to be able to walk to you car post-race. However: this doesn't mean you have to leave three hours. Unless you want to see people rushing around way before the start, there's no need to be on a bus at 6:30 if you are in wave 5. Take it easy—it's cold at the start and warm in your bed.

Oh, and don't try to bend the rules. There are times when you can bend the rules (example: you're a top-level skier from another region who has never skied the Birkie and would like to be in wave 1 rather than wave 4, in this case you can ask/plead your case) but this is not one of them. Unless you have a pass, you will not get in to Telemark. Unless you are coming from the west on Highway M, you will not get in to the Telemark parking area. Go to Como with everyone else. It would be nice if they gave car-pooling elite wavers a pass to park at Telemark, but they don't. It would be nice if they chartered planes to fly elite wavers in to Telemark, but they don't. Park in designated parking. Take the bus with everyone else.

• Before the start. Telemark is a big place, but it's not really made to handle 10,000 people. So the start is somewhat chaotic. There's a big tent near the start, and all sorts of stuff in Telemark. Still, you don't want to do anything extra at Telemark. There are lines for things like bathrooms. (Gentlemen often relieve themselves on the far side of the start area.) Restrooms in the lodge also have lines, but some of the more far-flung ones aren't necessarily very long. If you want to warm up, go down the trail as far as you see fit. If you want to see the first big hill, well, it's about 2k down. If you want to ski it before the race, you're a masochist.

• Drop your bag. Make sure it's in the right truck. The Birkie is proud of never having lost a bag (they're much better than the airlines), but there are thousands. Leave a bit of time. And don't worry about a few minutes in the cold without a jacket—a thousand other people will help to break the wind. Hint: you don't have to drop your bag, necessarily, before you hit the pens. But it might be a good idea. Oh, and put your shoes in your bag. The last thing you want to do is walk around Hayward in your ski boots.

• Your wave. This advice depends a lot on your wave and a lot on how seriously you will be taking the race. Before specifics, here's how the pens work. There are three or four successive "pens", each of which is separated by a gate. When a wave leaves, each pen gate opens, allowing the skiers to run up asfastastheycan to the next gate. With Elite men and elite women, and classic skiers, there is a lot of running involved if you're not in the Elite Wave. If you want to be in the front of your wave, you have to get in your pen early. And since people take things way too seriously, it means that you have to beat out a lot of master blasters for a spot.

Let's go wave by wave:

- Elite Wave: I think the top bib numbers get seeded in the first row. Otherwise, it's pretty quiet—it's wide enough that no one gets too far back (you know, since the wave is 200 people, not 900). For women, there's pretty much just one row.
- First Wave: This is probably the most "competitive" of the waves. A lot (okay, all) of this wave thinks they belong in the elite wave. Maybe 30 guys will actually make the jump. Out of 900. Still, everyone wants to be on the front line. If you actually think you'll be skiing a 2:30, by all means get on the front line. This, however, entails lining up half an hour before the race, making a run for the successive pens each time a new wave goes out, and getting your skis down in front. And it will be crowded. If you think you're going to be skiing a 2:55 or 3:00, it's probably not worth the extra time.
- Second Wave: Everyone thinks they belong in the first wave. There's a bit more crossover here, though. And more waves to have to "pen jump" before the start. Everyone in this wave has a similar seeding time, so unless you're better than everyone, you're probably not.
- Third-fifth waves: These waves are all quite big. "Birkie Wave Creep" means that everyone tries to qualify up as far as they can, and waves 1-5 are much larger than 6-10. So, you get to start with several hundred of your best friends and/or potential pole breakers.
- Sixth-Ninth waves: Probably less competitive. But I don't really know.
- Tenth wave: Since this is the new skier wave, there are all levels of athlete. Every year a couple guys go out and pass the whole race to make the elite wave. More power to them. Again, I don't know what it's like, I got myself in to wave 2 my first Birkie.

One more thing: if you are unhappy with your wave assignment, tell Birkie as early as possible. They have 8000 people to assign, and make mistakes. In addition to your's truly, who was put in the wrong wave but got that corrected, some guy called Matt Liebsch (who only won the race last year) wound up in the 6th wave. Before the first of the year is a good idea. Email them, call them, they're real nice if you explain yourself and give them a lot of time. They may say no to your request, but it's worth a try. Just don't expect a lot of sympathy the day before the race.

• Cell phones. Bring em'. Put them in your bag. It makes finding people at the finish a lot easier, especially if some of the people you are going to try to find are skiing the race in more than 3:00. I think there's reception at Telemark, but if you battery is low, it might be a good idea to shut it off.

• Delays. Sometimes, the start is delayed. This happens, generally, if there is a problem with busing or weather makes driving difficult. It's usually 10 or maybe 20 minutes, if it happens. They'll announce it at the start and probably on WOJB.

THE RACE

This is probably where I'm most qualified to give advice. I've run and skied the Birkie Trail dozens of times (including the Double Birkie—yes, 85k in a day; I put a 100k day in on the Birkie Trail a few years back to boot), I've mapped the Birkie Trail (stupid Gmap-pedometer doesn't seem to like more than 1500 points or so), I've made elevation profiles of the Birkie Trail, I've thrown together a Google Map of Birkie landmarks, and I've talked up the Birkie on Skinnyski. It's the best.

Also, the whole trail has kilometer markers. Even on the lake (they are on posts which are put in to the ice). If you're not familiar with the course, they're a good way to figure out where you are. They are rather conspicuous, but I'm usually focused/tired enough that I only see every third or fourth one (plus I know the trail well enough that I can identify most of it by landmarks).

One other thing before we start: the feed volunteers generally do a very good job. I've found feeds to be warm-but-not-piping-hot and found volunteers to know what they are doing (to not yank back feeds when you come through at 12 mph, and to not walk in amongst skiers to give you a feed). They do a hell of a job giving out thousands of feeds over the course of several hours. I think they're experienced. You don't really need a drink belt if you don't want one, but it's not a bad idea.

So, here we go:

0k: The trail starts at the Cable Union Airport. It follows a grass runway for the start. It's flat. It's wide. It's fun. Don't get lulled in to complacency. There are a a couple of small, rolling hills, but most of the first 2k are flat. And, yes, it's that wide. It will be at least 30 feet wide until after the powerlines. And, no, the little wooden telephone poles you follow are not the power lines.
2k: Ha! The easy part is over. You'll take a left and see the first power line hill. It's hard, but it's probably amongst the three worst hills of the race. Still, the trail gains 400 feet in the next 10k. Don't blow up here.
3k:At the top of this hill the trail rolls along the power lines. The Birkie Trail generally follows topography, except when it goes in a straight line along the power lines. There is a lot of up and down; there are also some choices as to where to ski—the general advice is to follow the pack. The classic trail joins from the left at the right turn and leaves just after the feed. Mind the tracks. There's enough room to avoid them and folks will yell at you if  you ski in to them. With the classic skiers going out earlier this year, even the elites should see some striders in the tracks.
4k: One last hill brings you to the first feed (4.5). From there, the trail ducks in to the woods with a sweeping left turn. There are no big hills for the next three k, but there are no big downhills. No rest. Get ready to climb. This is also a good place to blow up. You don't want to. And, yes, the trail is still 30 feet wide. It is this wide the rest of the way. Seriously. Tracking rules are not in effect—if you want to pass, go around.
7k: You finally get some rest between 7k and 9k with a couple of downhills.
9k: After a feed (9), the Korte trail diverges to the left. Make sure you keep right (for the Birkie). It's well signed with volunteers yelling at you, but still, pay attention.
10k: Here lies the infamous Bobblehead Hill. The trail makes a sweeping left turn on a downhill, which is probably the trickiest hill of the course. To top it off, it's 100 yards from a snowmobile trail, and a couple dozen sledders have a bonfire going while they drink beer (yes, at 9:00 a.m.; they're snowmachiners after all) and cheer you on. Actually, they want to see falls. Stay up (unless you want a score) and try not to breathe in too much cigarette smoke. According to late-wavers, this hill might become three parallel luge courses by late waves. If you don't snowplow, it won't. STEP TURN! (Why "Bobblehead"? Because of the sledder's heads in their oversized helments bobbing up and down.)
11k: Now you start climbing. There are a couple of more-gradual climbs before you come down a short hill and lay eyes on Firetower Hill, the climb to the high point of the race. Yes, it looks long. Yes, it is long. Yes, it has a downhill on the other side. You really want to feel good here, because this is where the race begins. It's still 38k to Hayward, but it's down 600 feet. Don't blow up on the long hill, but it's definitely a good place to go hard if you feel like it.
12k: High point is marked. You then have more than two rolling kilometers downhill. A feed (13.7) is during this downhill. Recover a bit. The trail then rolls for a while.
17k: There's a tricky uphill before the Boedecker Road feed (18.5). Most of the Birkie Trail is very level (perpendicularly speaking, if that makes any sense), but this hill is quite off-camber. The trail widens out with some pines on the left, and as you climb you'll feel the trail leaning to the left. You sort of have to use a right-side V1 on this hill as you climb it if you want to stay efficient. After the trail turns, the hill continues but is not off-camber. Fun. After the feed, the trail is rolling but mostly downhill.
20k: After some fun, fast downhills there's a slog up to the road crossing at OO. You'll see quite a few people on this hill cheering for racers. The top of the hill is a good place to eat a gel if you want one before the feed (21.8).
21k:  Cross OO, which will be narrow and thin. Surprisingly so, considering how well the rest of the trail is groomed. I think Birkie could have more snow on road crossings, and in the long term invest in three bridges or underpasses to bring them in to better shape. Anyway, double-poling the crossing is a good bet; it's really loose otherwise.
22k: The trail climbs gradually away from OO. After about a k, there's a picnic table on the right. After that, you get a nice descent, and then the trail is rather gradual for the next several kilometers.
23k: The classic trail joins from the left. You now have a bit less room with two classic tracks. Mind the tracks and the striding skiers. (The skate lane is still 20 feet wide so there's no excuse for skiing in the classic track. In the peak of the race, it will often have two parallel trains of skiers, with striders on either side.)
29k: There's a significant hill at 29k. It's not particularly steep, but it's long, and climbs more than 100 feet. The 29k marker is about halfway up the hill. Jesse says it's a good place to go hard and put a minute on the field. I agree. If you want to make a move, make it here. You get a nice rest after it (I always like that downhill for some reason), though, leading in to the next feed (31.8k) at Gravel Pit. Yes, it's 9k between feeds, but there is only that one major climb. After Gravel Pit, the trail rolls, with some nice downhills to Mosquito Brook. The one at about 33k has full southern exposure, so it might get sticky in the sun later in the race.
38k: You get a feed (38.1) at Mosquito Brook Road, after the crossing (similar strategy crossing the road as OO). You have about 500m of flat skiing across the stream before the trail begins to climb. This is the last really big climb of the trail, and it's split in to two parts. The first, Mosquito Brook Hill, isn't particularly steep, but it's pretty long, gaining nearly 150 feet with one small respite. The trail then levels out, before climbing again up "Bitch Hill." Yes, Bitch Hill. This one is half the elevation, but it's very steep, and at 40k, it's not a whole lot of fun. You'll know it when you see it. The ladies (bitches) will cheer you up it and hand out mardi gras beds. Take beads if you wish. This is a frequent place to bonk, though, so you might not be having too much fun.
41k: After Bitch Hill, two downhills lose the elevation you just gained. Don't worry, you won't climb that much again. You skirt the field to Fish Hatchery and go back in to the woods, before returning to the field's edge. There are a couple of hills there that I remember being really nasty little climbs, but the last two times I've been on them were at the end of the Double Birkie (after 83k of skiing) and at the end of a half marathon. So my judgment may be clouded. (Oh, and, they're running a full marathon to this point next fall. Running.) You take a right and ski along Highway 77, through the final feed (44.3), and across the road.
44k: And guess what? You climb again. The climb after Highway 77 is the last significant climb of the day. And it's a doozy, especially after 45k. The only consolation is that after you go up more than 100 feet, you have a long, sweeping downhill towards Lake Hayward. The view are great and you can see the town and water tower across the lake (if it's not snowing), pulling you towards the finish line.
46k: After crossing two small roads (generally okay snow cover) and a flat section where the race ends if there is open water on the lake, you ski on to the lake. It should be easy to ski across two flat kilometers. However a) you are 47k in to the race and b) there is usually a head wind. Find a pack and ski with them; if you do you can often pick off some skiers in front of you who blow up on the lake.
49k: The lake is generally lined with people, so there's impetus to go fast. There are k markers on the lake, and a 1000m to go near the end. You come up off the lake behind the Marketplace foods, and take a left around the grocery store. The snow here is often a bit soft, which really does a number on your legs. You then make a right turn on to Main Street and can see the finish; there's a flower pot to go around (generally right) and you cross Highway 63, which is snowed in well but always quite soft (they don't put snow down until about 9:00). Your legs will be angry but then Main Street has had snow on it since Wednesday, so it's solid and fast. Pick your lane, soak in the cheers as you fly up the street and power home. It's slightly uphill, and a V2 is often the technique of choice for the sprint.
50k: Finish! If you win, do whatever it is when you win. Otherwise, get your bag, and put your skis somewhere conspicuous where you can remember them. If you finish early, the town will seem totally overbuilt with a tent city and infrastructure for thousands. It feels like a ghost town. It fills up. If you've recovered, go and cheer people on as they finish. If you are interviewed at the finish on WOJB, be ready to answer "what's your name? where ya from?" and "how was the race/trail." Using a broad Midwest accent and giving short answers like "yah, good" is the norm. But if you are from out of town, anything goes. Except, since it's live, keep it clean.

AFTER THE RACE

• Get a feed. The feed tent has soup, bread, bananas, cookies, and all sorts of things you may want.

• Get a feed. The celebration tent has food for sale, like brats. You are in Wisconsin, so you really should have a brat. Plus, you just burned 2000-4000 calories, so you really should have a brat.

• Get a beer. You're in a small town in Northern Wisconsin. There are probably ten bars to choose from. Skiers are welcome at any of them. For packaged liquor, find a liquor store/gas station. The Marketplace has a good selection. It's Wisconsin, after all. If you are under 21 and have a Birkie bib, well, you can probably take your chances. If you are under 21 and are with a parent or guardian, drink up! It's legal in Wisconsin.

• Get on a bus. Buses to parking lots at Telemark and Como leave often about a block up past the finish line.

• Get ready to wait. Since Main Street is closed, Hayward devolves in to gridlock. Expect it to take 20 minutes to get through town after the race. It might be worth driving across on Highway 77 to miss the congestion.

• Cheer on everyone else. People will finish all day long. Ski or walk out across the lake and let people know they are doing awesome (even if they look differently). Main Street fills up with more and more skiers as the day progresses, both finishing and cheering. It's a good time.

• Go to the Sawmill Saloon. In Seeley. 10 miles north of Hayward. A big party. With New Glarus on tap.

AND MOST OF ALL, HAVE FUN!

Birkie (fever) on Google Maps

I have too much time on my hands. (But really, I don't.) If you zoom in you can follow the trail pretty well.


View Birkie in a larger map

Legend:

Red: road closures, detours
Yellow: random landmarks
Green: parking
Purple: maybe parking but don't count on it
Blue: Start and Finish
Skier: Trail landmarks
Food: Feeds

The hills should match up with annotation on the Birkie elevation profile.

The Birkie fever/geekout continues

Recently, we posted a Birkie elevation profile (large file linked here):

Next, we have the total climb and descent (in feet) of the Birkie, kilometer per kilometer. The black line is a five-k moving average. (click to enlarge)

Hills!

Birkie Weather Speculation: Week 2

For the last week, we've been following along as the models converge on a solution for the Birkie next weekend. It's been looking like a cool, dry race for several model runs (good run-to-run continuity) which means it will be probably be snowing or 80 next week. In any case, the last post was getting a bit long-winded, so we'll start the final countdown here.

Feb 20 00Z: Seasonable, dry. 2-4" of snow Wednesday and Thursday.
Feb 20 06Z: Seasonable (10-15), dry. 2-4" snow Wednesday and Thursday.
Feb 20 12Z: Seasonable, dry.
Feb 20 18Z: Seasonable, dry.
Feb 21 00Z: Seasonable, dry. 1-2" snow Tuesday-Wednesday.
Feb 21 06Z: Seasonable (teens), dry. Inch of snow midweek.
Feb 21 12Z: Seasonable (teens), slight possibility of light snow/flurries during race.
Feb 21 18Z: Seasonable (5-15), 1-3" snow midweek.
Feb 22 00Z: Seasonably cool, 1-3" snow midweek.
Feb 22 06Z: Seasonably coo, 1-3" snow midweek. Light northerly wind.
Feb 22 12Z-18Z: It's coming down to 1-2 inches of snow tomorrow (most likely more as you go north on the trail) and temperatures around 5 for the race start (8:30), rising to 20 during the race for fast folks, 30 for later wavers. No more updates unless there are any major changes.
Feb 23 00Z-06Z: Same as before, but with the slight possibility of light snow during the race.

Birkie Elevation Profile

[Updated 2/19 with high quality profile linked, 2/22: more hilly fun here.]

So, at times in the past, I've spent a bit of time looking in to the elevation profile of the Birkie Trail. The Birkie folks have one, but, well, it kind of stinks. So, I decided to do them one better. Google maps got good aerial photos posted on their site this past year, so it is easy to trace the trail from Cable to Hayward. I used gmap-pedometer to do so (it's having trouble loading the whole thing) and then used Gmap to GPX to convert it in to GPS data. That was exportable in to excel, and from there it was a hop, skip and a jump (and some google searching to figure out how to convert latitude and longitude in to distance) to having an excel file with 2300 points each with a distance and an elevation.

Thus, I was able to create a detailed chart of the Birkie trail elevation, kilometer by kilometer, for the whole race course. And, of course, post it here. Click it to enlarge, although the quality is less-than-stellar (thanks, blogger) but for a far better version click this clicky. That's on my personal website which is crash-prone but should work for now. But it is pretty damn sweet.

It's annotated with some major landmarks. And I'm not going to say it's perfect, but I think it shows all the major climbs. The .xls file is up to 2.3 mb, and has things like slope and such, which are poorly defined measurements (the more points you sample, the better they get, but you can never get a perfect measurement, see coastline paradox). In any case, this is enough for now.

A few stats: the race starts at 408m and drops to 366m. However, it has a total climb of more than one kilometer—1041 meters of climb. And in the 10k from McNaught Road to High Point, the trail ascends 400 feet. No wonder its a good, fun (hard) time. High point is 534m (1752 feet; the sign says 1730), and Lake Hayward, the low point, is 359m (1178 feet) amsl.

If you want to geek out a bit more … to calculate distance from changes in latitude and longitude, I get excel cells which look like

=(3958*3.1415926*SQRT((E1938)*(E1938) + COS(A1938/57.29578)*COS(A1937/57.29578)*(F1938)*(F1938))/180)

so that's fun. But it works; the distance comes in at 49.45 km which is within 1% of the advertised distance and not worth trying to adjust to 50k (i.e. multiplying distances by 1.01). Also, the Birkie has about 100 feet of climb per mile, or about a third the climb of the Hut Traverse in the White Mountains. Which probably means very little in these parts, but it's hiking 50 miles with ~15,000 feet of climb. In a day.

Birkie Weather Speculation

The long-range models are now reaching to Birkie week. So far it's only the GFS, but it starts to give us an idea of what might be happening two weeks down the road.

I'll make short remarks about each model run between now and then—but don't start waxing quite yet.

Feb 13 00Z: Major warm-up, then light rain, ending, temperatures in the 40s.
Feb 13 06Z: No warm-up, heavy snow (6-12") evening before Birkie.
Feb 13 12Z: Cold (0-10 above), clear.
Feb 13 18Z: Major warm-up, dry.
Feb 14 00Z: Seasonable, dry, no warm-up.
Feb 14 06Z: Seasonable, dry, no warm-up.
Feb 14 12Z: No real warm-up, heavy, wet snowstorm the day before race day.
Feb 14 18Z: Clear and cold (0-10 above).
Feb 15 00Z: Dry or maybe flurries, seasonable.
Feb 15 06Z: Lingering snow, cold (then very cold after race day).
Feb 15 12Z: Possible light snow, cold.
Feb 15 18Z: Clear and chilly.
Feb 16 00Z: Cool, possible flurries.
Feb 16 06Z: Cool, possible warmer storm after Birkie.
Feb 16 12Z: Seasonable, possible snow ending around race time, storm then warm after race.
Feb 16 18Z: Cool, dry, no warmup after race.
Feb 17 00Z: Seasonable, dry.
Feb 17 06Z: Seasonable, dry.
Feb 17 12Z: Cool, dry.
Feb 17 18Z: Cool, dry.
Feb 18 00Z: Seasonable, dry.
Feb 18 06Z: Cool, dry.
Feb 18 12Z: Seasonable, dry.
Feb 18 18Z: Cool, dry.
Feb 19 00Z: Cool, dry.
Feb 19 06Z: Seasonable, probably dry but possible flurries. Possibility of light snow next Wednesday or Thursday to soften conditions for the race.
Feb 19 12Z: Cool, dry. Still a bit of snow showing up between now and race day.

Comments Feb 17: It seems that the model runs are converging on a solution which is for a cool, dry Birkie, probably with a bit of new snow by then, but I bet it will be firm, fast and fun, if a bit nippy. Now, let's see the next model run—if it's anything like normal, it will be completely different than the last few.

I'll continue to update this, hopefully daily, as the race nears—and it will be interesting to see how the model(s) converge on a solution.

Seeley Classic race report

I've only skied it twice, but the Seeley Classic race, run entirely on the Birkie Trail system, is fast becoming one of my favorite races. The trail is great—almost perfect for striding—and the grooming is, of course, superb. The race always seems low-key—there's no busing and everyone hangs out at OO before and after the race—which belies that it is neck-and-neck with the Craftsbury Marathon as the largest classic-only race in the nation. And while Craftsbury is one of the largest events in the Northeast, the Seeley is just another weekend race in the Midwest. But for someone who rather likes the finesse of classic skiing, including plotzing about wax, it's a great time.

Transport up to Hayward was interesting. I have no issue with my car (despite what you may have heard on Cartalk) but, working for a car sharing organization I felt bad about my carbon footprint driving up a single occupancy vehicle. So I shot an email over to John Swain, who lives one neighborhood over, about carpooling. He was driving up with his folks, so I couldn't subject one of my free-housing folks near Birkieland to four people, but rather in a hotel. After some quick math I realized that the cost of a hotel room would be somewhere on the order of 25¢ per mile, so I wouldn't recoup the full cost in saved gas, but with maintenance I'd be close, and I wouldn't have to do all the driving myself, which is always a plus. Also, it would be more environmentally friendly.

I headed up to their house Friday afternoon and after a couple of false starts headed off to Seeley for bib pick-up. One of the perks of the Seeley is that you get a sweet hat with your entry ($55 for a race, a hat and a feed is not a bad deal, or as John's dad, Ed, pointed out, it shows what the mark-up on $30 retail hats is) so we wanted to make sure to pick it up before they ran out. Then it was off to the motel for some sleep, and while I didn't sleep particularly well I definitely caught enough zeds. Had I known about the hot tub I probably would have found some time in there.

As for waxing … I had glide wax on and was waiting on the kick along with everyone else. No one knew. They were setting the tracks and it was in the mid-20s, but temperatures were slated to rise from about 23 to 34 during the race. So we planned to go to bed early and go up early to wax test in order to try to hit it.

Breakfast at the hotel was decent (waffle, better than continental) and we made for the course. The parking lot was much larger and we got a space easily—they've expanded the lot considerably. Last year we got there with minutes to spare and had to park down OO and run to the course (our warm up). Of course, last year, in new snow, the waxing was super easy. This year was more difficult. We set up a wax bench, I scraped my glide, and we put on klister binder. A little Swix red/VR50 was tested. It was good, but slipped a little on the hill north of OO, and with warmer temperatures coming, we decided to put on a layer of VR55. We didn't hit it perfectly—I'm not sure anyone had perfect wax this year as many did last year—but we did pretty well.

With some time to spare, I was able to enjoy the scenery. The warmer air had mixed out the clouds rather well and the sky was bright blue. The clouds, however, had frosted the tops of all the trees with a rather thick layer of rime (which would later fall on us like snow) and they stood out, stunningly, against the sky. I wished that I had brought my camera. Perhaps I enjoyed the scenery too much because, as usual, I went running around before the race. I stapled two goos to the "belt" of my pants and went to take a pee, but one of the staples hadn't taken. With no time to grab the stapler (three minutes to start) I went and dug a divot next to the trail at 22k where it looped through the start and put the goo there, hoping to grab it later. There was a chance.

I jumped on my skis and we were off. The Birkie originally alternated direction every year until 1992, so the trail was designed to be skied in either direction, and skis well in either direction. The classic trail skis fine in either direction, but seems to have been designed with the current southward journey in mind, and it skis best going south. We were going north. And with a decent amount of elevation to lose (before the climbs to High Point) there were some fun corners—something you don't get on the Birkie Trail. None was too challenging, but there were definitely some times I used the whole trail. I stayed with the lead pack until it broke up (pretty quickly) and then jumped on the back of the second pack. There were about ten guys in it, but I couldn't quite muster the energy to stick with it, and by about 4k in I was skiing mostly on my own. Every so often I'd see someone (usually passing me—apparently I went out fast) and skied with people for a kilometer or two at times, but packs didn't form.

Here's the thing: skiers don't understand drafting. At all. A few of them seem to—when I saw the lead pack going north as I was going south (much later in the race) the top four guys were one behind the next—but most definitely do not. This means that if I got behind someone and drafted them, I'd not be expected to jump in front later on and take my turn. But this is ludicrous! Drafting is a really great way to conserve energy and, working together, you can go considerably faster. I took some nice rests behind people who were rather furiously double poling. And if I took a pull in front they'd either drop off or step in to the track next to me! Seriously, guys, drafting is really important.

A couple years ago at the Bear Chase I was with a couple guys who seemed to get this. They'd pull for a while and I'd sit in back and rest. When we saw someone ahead, I'd be rested and jump out in front to go catch that person. We probably caught three or four people in this fashion. Yet most skiers really seem averse to it. So if anyone reads this (does anyone) please draft more. Yes, someone may step on the back of your skis once in a while. But you'll go faster. There's a reason cyclists do it.

Anyway, I was feeling half decent and not wanting to kill myself on the climbs to Boedecker or OO. I saw my first woman when Jojo Winters passed me. I stayed with her (as did a couple other guys) for a while but, good gravy, technique and training showed when she schooled us up a striding hill. (She finished four minutes ahead of me, although she was the only woman to do so, so I got girled, but not girlsed, if that makes sense.)

I felt half-decent going in to OO after the hills, and remembered I had a good there. So I jumped in the right track and started looking for it in the snow. At 10 mph, it's kind of hard to see a three-inch-high packet sticking up. Nothing. Double pole. Nothing. Double pole. Nothing. Doub—OH THERE IT IS I'M ALMOST PAST IT. Brain make arm reach down and grab. Hand, grab. Eyes, look at hand. Is there a goo in it? No? "Damnit." Apparently I said that loud enough that John's mom heard me and retrieved the goo, which I'd look for later in the snow only to find it on the wax bench.

So I took the feed and planned my eating of the remaining goo: around the 31k marker, which I knew to be about 0.8 mostly-downhill kilometers before the Gravel Pit feed stop. That's enough time to get it out, get it open, eat it and then have some water/energy to wash it down. We rolled on to OO with me a trading places with a few folks—again, no one wanted to draft (ugh)—but at least I could see people so I had motivation to go fast. I took my goo and saw the leaders right around Gravel Pit, and then headed up that hill and down to the turnaround.

I forgot to take the Jaeger shot there (oh, yes, you read that right) and pretty quickly passed a guy in a gray suit I hadn't seen in a while. He seemed to be bonking. My next order of business involved two guys I could see in front of me: a guy in a New Moon suit called Paul and a guy in a Madnorski suit. Paul had passed me before OO but hadn't pulled away, and Madnorski had passed me more recently. I felt rather ducky and figured I had a chance to take both of them.

While Madnorski was closer to me, I actually caught Paul first. He seemed to be hitting the wall and I hadn't had a proper bonk (yay for lots of energy drink at feeds and a goo) and I strode by him and quickly lost him. So, now it was down to me and Madnorski. The tracks were still pretty good. For the first half—when I was in tracks that had only been skied in by a couple dozen skiers—the tracks were fast and firm, and I had bomber kick. In the southern 22k, the tracks were, well, less good. That's what happens when you let a few hundred skiers—not all of whom know "never herringbone on tracks unless the hill is seriously so steep no one could" so the hills were kind of trashed when they got at all steep. In addition, the sun and air were warmer, so they fell apart more easily. But my kick was still surprisingly good.

I also knew I hadn't bonked because I was able to turn up the dial without dying. I slowly chipped away at Madnorski's lead until I was about five seconds behind him. We descended down the 29k hill (as I know it) and my skis seemed slightly faster than his, so in an all-out sprint in to OO, which is downhill, I'd probably have a slight advantage. On a moderate uphill, I put the striding hammer down and got right up behind him. It was fast enough in the shade that I was catching him on any sort of down grade so I jumped in to the track next to him and for about two kilometers we were neck-and-neck.

There were two hills to go up before the finish, and the race—as it was between me and Madnorski—would hinge on these. Before the first one, I had jumped in to a slight lead by striding pretty well, and I went in to a fast-walk type of herringbone (a run herringbone is surprisingly hard) and glanced behind me at the top—Madnorski was gone. I got up to the next hill—the one up to the picnic table—and pushed pretty hard up that because, why not. Madnorski was nowhere to be seen. I felt pretty good—apparently I hadn't gone hard enough—and came in to the finish, where I immediately ate a few cookies and doughnut holes.

As for the results … I finished in 34th place in 2:29, which is okay (the winners finished in 2:03) as I was 20% back. Again, I probably could have gone faster. I was skiing with mostly elite wavers, but this finish would have probably put me near the cutoff in the Birkie again. I have to get faster. As for my age group, well, wow. The 25-29s ruled the top of this race. Apparently, if you are going to ski Seeley and are in your late 20s (yes, this is depressing to write this), you better be good. Of the top 16 finishers, 10 were 25-29. Of the top 36, 19—more than half!—were in the age group. After this, there were three more finishers. There were almost no 20-24s (five, if you include Scott Kyser who wasn't really racing) for a variety of reasons, such as collegiate racing and JOQs nearby.

But here's the thing: this does not mesh with other race results. For example, in the Birkie I was 29th in my age class (18-24), out of 218. Had I been a year older, my time would have been 43d out of 223. In the City of Lakes I was 6th out of about 45, and in the 25-29s I would have been 16th out of about 70. Based on the size of Seeley, I'd expect to be in the top 10 out of 25 or 30. But I was 18th out of 22.

So this seems rather bizarre. Why should this race have such a stacked field of 25-29s? I actually have a hypothesis: it's a classic race. Sadly, in my opinion, a lot of skiers have not skied enough classic in recent years. A lot of people go out and skate, but the ones of us who stride are all a bit more serious about racing do both. Now, anyone significantly older than us would have started racing in, potentially, the 1980s, and would have learned to race classic. And while most high school leagues still have classic skiing, a lot of recreational skiers turn mostly towards skating. So recreational racers would likely not show up to a marathon-length classic race. Serious racers, however, almost all ski classic. A lot of us like it. If you look at the top finishers in this race, there are a whole slew of people who I skied with (read: lost to) in college. Collegiate skiing makes for good classic racers. However, beyond about my level of racing—which is about the elite wave in the Birkie—no one skis classic anymore.

There's no way to know what the future will bring, but I'd guess that it will result in somewhat fewer classic skiers, but not much less competition. It also means that I'm not going to get an age class prize for a good long time.

Anyway, after the race John played on skis for a while (I had no problem standing out in the warm, sunny weather, and took a short cool down) and we headed down to Seeley around 2:00, ate lunch, I grabbed a beer and gabbed with Jim Crandall and Morrey (college coach's dad, college coach) and after John got his plate for being in young (24.something) we headed back to the cities. I explained how we were doing well by driving together (I explained that my carbon footprint was reduced from 1*car to 0.25*van and each of their personal carbon footprints was reduced from 0.33*van to 0.25*van. In gallons of gas, I went from 7.5 to 3.75, and they each went from 5 to 3.75. I ate well and now will sleep well. And live to race again. Skating. So I can beat some younger folks.

Terrace Oaks

Very excellent.

Except for some oak leaves on the windward parts of the track (especially where the SE wind blew off of the freeway or lake) the track at Terrace Oaks was outstanding. Firm, with good easy kick, all powder, fast and fun. The base is solid, too, and skating looked great. Terrace Oaks is in terrific shape, and should be through tomorrow morning, then it's anyone's guess. It is March after all.

I can only get to two trails at most, on a good day! Check out all the trail reports at skinnyski.com

Birkebeiner, Birkebeiner, Birkebeiner

It's never a bad thing when you leave for Birkie in a snow storm. Except for the traffic. We headed down to Randolph to gas up and then hit 35E and then hit traffic. Collin was writing messages to cars in other lanes in the condensation on the window, and I was cursing at other drivers. When one of the skiers told me to calm down, I channeled my inner Walter and said "calmer than you are" and when they questioned that I just repeated "calmer than you are."

We got through Saint Paul and headed up 35E in traffic and snow, in a rear wheel drive van. Safety first. I was sucking down gatorade and water from my bottle the whole way (we'll get to why in a sec) and we made it to highway 70 and headed east in the snow. In Wisconsin, I was being helped in navigation by one Sarah Van Etten, a native, who didn't really know where the turn-of was. Luckily I knew that it was at a curve in the road, and since I can count the curves on Highway 70 on one hand (almost) I spotted it easily. We turned in to the feed and ate well there.

The feed is a big Birkie tradition, and there are many skiers who have skied many races. The total number of Birkies was tallied, and the total was found to be something like 206. I did some quick math and said that it was the distance from the equator to the North Pole in Birkebeiners, which impressed some folks. We ate, and then went downstairs to scrape the last layer of wax off and then add fluoros. As a "coach" I sacrificed my lung capacity (with a mask on) to put on the cancer to make the skis fast. When those were done (I waxed Jakob's skis, too, returning a favour) we shipped out for a short but snowy drive over to the Van Etten household.

With mattresses for all we retired pretty quickly, hoping our 5-15 wax job would suffice in the morning. Lights went out and we did our best to sleep, with a 5:25 wake up call the next morning. Before my alarm rang, Sarah's dad came and told me it was already 12 degrees—the forecast low had been closer to five. Collin heard this and freaked out about wax. "I need to rewax," he said, at 5:05 a.m. I assured him of two things. First, his wax would be fine. He had a wax good to 15, with a fluoro overlay, and on the cold new snow what specific wax it was didn't matter as much as a smooth base and some fluoros. Second, I told him there was no way he could put on a new coat of wax, and if he did, he'd lose his fluoros. He relented, and we ate and got ready to leave. The van was hastily packed (I forgot a pillow in fact) and we departed the Van Ettens, only to slide on the driveway. After a few minutes of cursing the rear wheel drive (and cursing the driver, uh, me) we made it on to Highway 53.

Being late for our rendezvous with Jakob when we got cell reception (finally) we informed him to wait for us at Trego, which he did. He jumped in for the ride north and we set off. The sun came up on the way to Hayward and by the time we hit Como Field it was light out, and snowing lightly. Traffic wasn't too bad and we had time to use the port-a-john (or, in my case, a pile of snow) and jump on to the bus to Telemark.

The start was hectic, as usual, but I made my way to the first wave pen. Yes, the first wave. I have a bit of a history with the Birkie. In 2006, Jakob and I got thrown in the second wave. Me because of my Hoppet time, which I did in 40 degree temperatures at 6000 feet having been sick the entire week before. Jakob because he had some good shorter races and we whinged some. He should have been in the Elite wave—I should have been in E or 1. He wrote on his bib "sorry, elite wave next year" because he was bitter or something. We skied out of the front of Wave 2 and he qualified for elite, I almost did. He, in fact, came second in the wave. We both got bogged down passing most of the first wave.

The next year was the shortened Birkie. Being in the fake birkie saved my skis—I went on my rock skis. So there was that. And last year, well, I'll blame coaching. Jakob and I went on a no-carbs then lots of carbs diet. For two days we were on the Atkins diet: carb starvation. I ate avocados, sour cream, eggs, cheese, meat, but no pasta, bread or other goodness. Then for three days it was all carbs. It is supposed to starve the muscles of carbs so they absorb more. Or something.

The problem was that I was so obsessed with eating the right things at the right times (we had great discussions at practice that week: "Hey do you feel like crap? me too! This Atkins diet is a load of horse hockey, isn't it!") that on Friday afternoon I forgot to drink water. This was a mistake. Between about 2:00 and 10:00 I had, uh, two glasses of water. When I went to bed I cursed myself, in driving, coaching, etc, I'd made the big mistake of not having a full water bottle in my back pocket. Poor form.

I didn't pee overnight—bad news bears. (This year I peed twice in seven hours, and again when I woke up.) I guzzled some water in the morning, but way too little, way too late. Two kilometers in to the race I was at the front of the first wave, but the dehydration hit on the power lines and I dropped like a fly. Every feed was three glasses of water until I hit OO and was rehydrated, but by that time I had been passed by 150 guys and had to claw my way back to finish in 350th place.

So I had better hopes for this year, and was certainly better hydrated. I lined up in the corral, and with all the new waves (Elite men, elite women, elite classic) we had some false starts but I got up on to the front of the line, then took off my clothes and went running across the front. I saw some familiar faces, including one Jesse Crandall, a local boy skiing his first Birkie (due to various circumstances) out of the first wave. I had a quick, pre-race chat, amounting to "I'll see you in Hayward, probably ten minutes after I get in." I saw Blaise Sopiwnik, too, who is coaching at Northland. Could I lose to a Sopiwnik? He was gunning to the Elite Wave, too.

The thing about the Elite Wave is that it has about 200 guys in it: the top 200 from the year before who show up again (usually about 150) plus other folks who qualified in. For instance, John Swain hadn't skied a Birkie since he was at Colby but he petitioned in to the Elite Wave with a win at the COLL classic race and top twelve-or-so at Mora. Collin was in due to his '06 Birkie and Mora race (after initially being in Wave 1 when they saw his COLL time). The rules are pretty rigid, but they can be bent if you have the right numbers. Or know the right people. I was determined to ski my way in, however. Like qualifying for Boston.

Finally, fifteen minutes after the Elites had left us, the gun went off and the gates went up and off we went. I skied out near the front, but determined not to die at the start. Jesse stormed out, and Blaise was on his tail, although I stayed near Blaise along the Power Lines. Those hills are killer, but I wasn't in pain at the top and settled in to the rhythm of the course. Up and down. Up and down. Up and up and up and up and—there's High Point.

The First Wave isn't horrible. Each year about 40 guys from the First Wave qualify for Elite, so the front of it, at least, is a bunch of pretty good skiers. Because of the seeding and, of course, the sheer number of people, the Birkie is often quite crowded, but because the first 50 in the First Wave are akin to the last 50 in the Elite Wave, the front of the wave spreads out pretty well, so I wound up skiing with a nice little group. One interesting thing were skiers from further afield who did not really understand the pack mentality of large races. One guy was being very aggressive at 10k, and skied off, after drafting a bunch of people and saying "track" (uh, the trail is 10m wide). His uniform said "Ohio." Figures.

One other thing about the first wave is that it is a boys club. Most women who ski first wave times are in the top 50ish and, thus, the Elite Wave. So there are only a few women in the First Wave, and none skiing near its front. I haven't lost to more than a dozen women or so in total this year, so I didn't expect to see any females with four digit bibs.

A bit after High Point we passed the first Elite Woman. That felt good—we put 13 minutes on her in not much more than 13k. She had the nerve to tell us to all take it easy, as she felt crowded out. Or something. I wanted to turn around and say "uh, hon, we've put 45 seconds on you per kilometer. If you belong in the first wave you should have skied from the first wave." But I maintained tact.

The hill up High Point was fun, Bubblehead Hill was not bad at all with the conditions. The snow on the trail was fantastic. It had been groomed the night before but about an inch of snow had fallen since. So it was not straight corduroy, but soft new snow over a firm base. Perfect for my softer skis—I was happy and my skis were relatively fast. The classic race looked interesting, there was close to an inch of new snow in the tracks, and reports were that early skiers, once they hit the Birkie Trail, skied outside the tracks, especially on corners they could cut, because it was faster. Some classic skiers had put on klister the day before and were frantically trying to remove it, others had some drag. I'd like to ski the race classic at some point—it's a great trail for it—but, boy, the waxing would drive me nuts. The skate race, having seen about 250 racers, was in fantastic shape.

I know the trail, at least to about 35k, quite well, and knew most of the hills, so there were no surprise. 17k—here comes Boedecker Hill. 20k—get ready to climb to OO. 29k—an uphill, then a nice downgrade. Gravel Pit—an uphill. Around OO I decided to take a goo I had stapled to my bib. I wasn't hungry, but decided to do it anyway. It was a good idea, but poorly executed. I took a third of the goo, decided I didn't need it, and threw it. I'd come to regret that.

I was skiing along with a pack with people jumping in and out until near Mosquito Brook when it started to break. I didn't have too much energy for Bitch Hill (yes, Bitch Hill) and was dying afterwards, and I grabbed my other goo. Its effect would be mainly psychological, but after I got the staple out of the packet I took the whole thing about a kilometer before Rosie's Field, which was nice because I then got a drink, crossed Highway 77 and struggled up that one last hill.

By this point we had passed a lot of the Elite women, and about five Elite men. I figured my chances were good to make the Elite Wave. I'd put 15 minutes on five men and was about 30th in the First Wave (it was acually a good guess for my blood-starved brain). I mustered what strength I had to make it on to the lake, and then began what is always a slog across. Well, not always. In 2006, I had gone out too easy, and sprinted across the lake and in to the finish. Same in 2008, actually, since I never got to burn much energy when I was dehydrated. This time, I had skied harder (good!) but didn't have the pep to school a bunch of people on the lake.

I actually did, however, pass a few people, and got to the end of the lake just behind a few other first wavers, and ahead of a few others. Some spectator told me "no one behind you for 50m," which was very helpful, I could focus on the guys in front of me. It didn't help; I almost sprinted up to the guy in front of me, but he held me off. I was hoping he didn't finish in 200th place.

I saw my time—2:39—and figured that it would probably be Elite, but it would be close. The first order of business was food and warmth. Hayward is designed to handle thousands of skiers, but with less than 300 in it felt pretty quiet. The feed tent had no line and I knew a bunch of people there. I ate soup, bread, bananas, and drank some water; I'd bonked but the goo had kept it from being super hard like Mora. Jakob claimed I probably beat him, I said I probably didn't. Collin was reasonably pleased with his race, but blamed me for making his skis slow. He came 50-something after a month on snow—not too shabby. And I heard a story that Matt Liebsch had won by so much that he had picked up his one-year-old kid and, in Birkie tradition, carried him across the finish line.

And it proved true, in this fantastic video. Next time hopefully he won't drop the kid:


That was, in Collin's words, tight.

In any case, my eyes hurt and my feet were cold, so I went in to the food and press conference tent where the winners talked about the race. Matt Liebsch, my boot brother, had taken it easily, and then we got to hear from Bjorn Daehlie, who is only about the best skier ever. He'd come second in the classic in a sprint. To his credit he is old and retired. To Gus Kaeding's credit, he beat flippin' Bjorn Daehlie. In that tent they had results, but placing was about an hour delayed. I had a print-out of my time, but not my place. I was talking to Jesse and looked at his time and said "well, look, you were 10:00.2 ahead of me." He reminded me of my earlier prescience—I had told him I'd see him in Hayward, ten minutes after he got there. I was off, but by two tenths of a second.

Then the rest of the Mac skiers straggled in and I bought meal tickets and we ate brats (They shouldn't even have to ask if you want kraut, it should be a given). Finally, I went and found my results: 180 in the mens. You know what that means—Elite Wave next year! Now I have to train harder—I don't want to fall out. My reach goal is top 100—double-digit bib in 2011.

In any case, Macalester alums are well represented. From what I know, next year will see five Mac alums, students and professors in the Elite Wave; Collin '10, Jakob '08, Jesse '01, me '06 and a professor, Kathryn Splan.

So it was a successful Birkie. The trail was outstanding (of course), the finish was on Main Street, I finally got myself in to the Elite Wave, and I didn't bonk too hard. Plus which we managed to get the van back to Saint Paul without falling asleep at the wheel, saw a beautiful sunset, and four or five new inches of snow on the ground. All around, a great race. Next year, however, I am going to go party at the Sawmill on Saturday night.

Results

Oh, the people I know. (Most of them faster than I.)

Matt Liebsch. I bought classic boots off him in the fall of 2005. Since then he's gotten really, really good. He sort of won this little race.

Zach Handler. I worked with Zach at the Ski Track back when I was in high school and he had just graduated Carleton. Almost ten years ago. Small world.

John Swain, who I've met this year—a Colby kid who knows some of the folks I know there, although he actually did ski on their team.


Christian Brekke, a retired Johnny who I skied against (read: behind) in college.

Collin rockin' the old Macalester spider suit.

Brett Palm, a good friend of my cousin at Dartmouth.

Jakob from Macalester.

Jesse Crandall, my coach at Macalester, skiing his first ever Birkie. He beat me by 10:00.2, 1/5 of a second more than I had predicted. If I'd only skied 1/100th of a second faster per kilometer!

Blaise Sopiwnik, the brother of Roscoe. He learned how to ski this year it seems.

Who's this goofball?

Alex Jospe, who I met rollerskiing on Comm Av in Newton. I suggested strongly she pester the Birkie to get moved up from the 10th wave. She wound up 23d in the womens field, but the first one from Newton, Mass. Represent.

Macalester professor Kathryn Splan. Who I sort of know, but Go Mac!


Bjorn Daehlie. I don't know him. But he's still fast.

Report from the Birkie Trail

My folks were in town and after a day in Minneapolis (a long day: ski at Wirth, shower, tour of the Purcell Cutts house, Art Shanties, Guthrie, late dinner) we made for the Birkie Trail. In 2006 my dad had business and swung through town for a weekend and I took him to the trail, since there was no skiing nearby. (Had there been good skiing in town we would have gone to Murphy or Wirth or Battle Creek or Woodland.) I'd been hoping to show them around the great trails in the Cities, but, alas, it was not to be.

So Sunday morning we packed up and made for the Birkie Trail. We skied from the North End Cabin, then striding, me skating. It was firm and a bit icy, but perfectly groomed of course (after a couple days of closure to ensure the best race conditions). I skied to the bottom of Powerlines (so daunting from the top) and then to Boedecker and back, and then striding to the 8k mark to find my parents slowly going up the hills. They loved the trail, but it kicked their butts. As it probably will mine next week.

My report from Skinnyski:

It's a testament to the grooming of the Birkie Trail that we were wondering about snow conditions until just about Hayward. The trail, however, has fantastic conditions, with an inch of new snow combined into the icy base to make the trail hard but with an edge, and very fast but definitely not scary. From the bottom of the Power Lines (boy, does that hill look daunting from the top—and the bottom) to Boedecker Road the trail was in fine shape, and talking to some folks at North End Cabin they say the rest is good, too, although Lake Hayward is supposedly icy.

Seeley Classic race report

Jakob and I drove up to Wisconsin for the Seeley Classic—biggest solely classic race around, and on the Birkie Trail, too. We made it in to Drummond without issue, having signed up for the race and pretty promptly went to sleep. Waxing had been easy, Start green (or something similar) and toko binder with lots of, uh, whatever on top. With new snow, anything would kick.

With the 10 a.m. start time, we had plenty of time in the morning, and only cut it close because we got three miles out when I realised I'd left my number at the house. Whoops. Back through the four inches of new snow each way, and then to the start—in the new snow—just minutes before the gun, so I managed not to warm up at all. It had just set in to Jakob and me that a 42k classic race is a bit of an undertaking.

The classic trail—the course—is fantastic. I can't stress how well-designed it is as a striding trail, and overall as a ski trail. Amazing. I stuck with the leaders out of the front and soon dropped back to about 15th, but still skiing well. I took the first feed, headed down the hill, and began dry heaving. Bad times. I thought I pulled something and stopped on the side of the trail to stretch some. As I said, bad times. I went pretty quickly from 15th to 45th as I waited to see if I should go back to the feed, knowing I was a ways from the start. Once I was able to go on, I took it easy most of the way to OO, but started feeling better, so I took off.

After the OO crossing, I felt better and started picking up positions. I made up about ten before skiing most of the last 10k from the 34k marker on the Birkie Trail back to OO. A fine race, except for the five minutes stopped by the side of the trail.

After chopping some firewood (after half an hour we were completely beat) we had dinner and then I went for a short, easy night ski to loosen up. In the morning, we went to the North End Cabin and skied to OO, where there was the promise of food from the official opening of the Classic Trail (and a lot of skiers, too), again in new snow. Conditions couldn't have been better. And free chili and hot dogs at OO. And a slow ski back to the Birkie Trailhead—and after 80k of striding, a soothing drive home.

Results, or something approximating them.

My skinnyski trail reports:

Outstanding—some of the best conditions ever.

Four more inches of snow on top of the snow yesterday made for fantastic conditions. There was a bit of breaking trail but the snow was so light and fluffy that it wasn't a major issue. The new classic trail is amazing—so much work went in to it, and kudos to anyone who worked on this great project and to the Birkie Foundation. It's great. We skied from North End Cabin south along the Birkie Trail to OO, snacking on hot dogs and chili and cookies and hot chocolate (thanks!) before lumbering back along the Birkie Trail to North End. All fantastic, can't wait for the Birkie!

Beyond excellent.

There was new snow in the tracks for the Seeley, but the trail has fantastic conditions. Beneath the new snow is a solid skate deck and the tracks are very firm. Kick was easy and with some binder stayed on the whole race. Are we excited about a few more Birkie Trail hours tomorrow? You betcha.