Reflections From the Finish Line of the 2022 American Birkebeiner
Every completed race means more than the last
This year, the Birkie started on Wednesday with the open track option. This allowed skiers to complete their Birkie without having to navigate the massive crowds of people.
My mom, who is in her 70s, was delighted that the Birkie provided this option. I’ve actually advocated for it with Birkie board members over the years on her behalf. She’s been knocked down a few times by aggressive skiers in the past. The open track meant there would be fewer chances to get “run over” and it took away a big part of her stress.
Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperative on Wednesday. My mom’s partner, Neal, was concerned on the drive to the start when the temperature read -10.
“That had me worried because you know she’s still going to do it,” he said.
That statement made me laugh. My mom is tenacious. Not skiing the Birkie is simply not an option.
An inspiration on the trail
When the snow is cold, you aren’t going to go fast. Mom’s biggest concern was getting to the finish within the cutoff time. I watched her progress on my tracker and it didn’t look like she was going to make it after the first few check points. However, she sped up considerably and completed her 34th Birkie safe and sound.
Out on the trail, a few of her friends passed her. One said he was going to quit at “OO.”
“What?” my mom said. “You can’t quit!”
He ended up finishing and he thanked her for saving his Birkie.
I’m not allowed to quit either.
Mind over matter.
Just keep going.
You’ll get there.
All you have to do to succeed is not quit.
The 48th American Birkebeiner
We had a better forecast for Saturday, although the overnight lows were right around zero and that meant the start temperatures would be in the 10s. The predicted high was 32 degrees. The large temperature swing made waxing and dressing a bit complicated.
Oh, and there was also a headwind.
It’s the Birkie! Of course it’s a headwind.
My mom got up to drop me off at Birkie ridge as is tradition. It was fun to get back up to the start area and see old friends. Those nervous hours before the race contain a special kind of energy that can’t be replicated. I did a virtual Birkie last year. It was good to be back.
The thing about the Birkie is that it’s so unpredictable. If everything goes right, you’re still going to finish completely exhausted. If a couple things go wrong, you’re in for a brutal day.
I’ve broken poles in races.
I’ve completely missed the wax.
I’ve gotten into crashes out on the trail.
I’ve cramped.
I’ve bonked.
All these possibilities are going through your head as you line up at the start.
My chronic asthma took a turn for the worse
This year’s been tough for me because I’ve had some health issues. Back in December I didn’t think the Birkie was possible. My asthma had gotten worse and I simply couldn’t get any air.
I was tempted to quit, but I resolved to do everything within my power to give it a shot. I committed to a restrictive diet and changed my asthma treatment twice. Even so, it wasn’t until about two weeks before the Birkie that I started feeling good enough to make the attempt.
When the starting gun went off, two things became immediately apparent. The first was that I’d overdressed. The second was that my wax was much better than everyone around me.
The performance of my wax was a pleasant surprise. My skis are over ten years old and I think I’ve essentially skied all the structure right of them. On cold snow, that’s actually a recipe for speed. I was also trying a non-fluorinated wax I’d never used before.
In the stressful days before the article I wrote a punchier-than-intended article about the frustrations of getting a good wax tip:
For the record, my wax consisted of a layer of graphite, a layer of Start Green, and a layer of Toko World Cup non-fluorinated Blue mixed with Swix cold powder. I also hit it with the fine structure tool.
Adapting for the conditions of the day
I couldn’t do much about being overdressed. I rolled up my sleeves and pulled off my hat. I was worried about dehydrating because that leads to cramps, so I made sure to drink water and eat bananas at every aid station.
Even so, my triceps got tingly towards the end. You feel those little pins and needles that warn, “I’m about to inflict unbearable agony upon you.”
You have to ease up when that happens. Fortunately, I never succumbed to cramps.
Extra hill training
This year, I spent the last two weeks before the Birkie doing nothing but hill repeats. There’s really nothing flat on the Birkie trail. You’re either going up or down.
I ski at Tower Ridge in Eau Claire. There’s one hill on the lighted loop and I just did it again and again. It’s not really a Birkie sized hill, but there is one little steep section right in the middle.
My goal in training was to practice every form of climbing even if it meant trudging up the hill. I always seem to end up doing that in the Birkie, so I figured I might as well train for it.
When you focus on hill climbing, you become a lot more efficient. I noticed it even within a week of training. If you don’t practice, you end up flailing around and wasting a lot of energy on the climbs. You have to learn how to maintain speed and even recover as you climb. It’s possible.
Don’t sweat and stay relaxed
My goal throughout the day was to ski within myself and try not to sweat too much. On the uphills I stayed put. On the downhills I passed people. My wax started to give out at around 30k when the temperature started to rise, but at that point you’re in survival mode anyway.
I didn’t look at my watch much throughout the day. I wasn’t as worried about time as I was about skiing smart and making it home. I was surprised to cross the finish line at 4:22. To go from thinking you won’t be able to even complete and to end up putting up a fairly respectable time is pretty emotional.
My wife brought my daughters up to see me finish, and what could be better than that? My eldest is in middle school, so we’re about to enter the age where parents are an “embarrassment.”
It’s nice to do something to make them proud of me. It’s important that my kids are proud of me. I think about that a lot.
The finishing chute
The girl who handed me my finisher’s pin looked at the number and said, “Oh, I’m 19 years old.” She was being good-natured about it.
Where do those years go? I don’t feel any different than the kid who waited in line to watch ‘Star Wars’ back when it was released into theaters. I looked at the girl who handed me the pin and said, “It’s been a privilege seeing all these years, not everybody gets to.” I don’t think she knew what I meant. Maybe that’s what being young means.
When you hit the finish line of the Birkie, sometimes you feel the need to let yourself cry for a moment. There’s a surge of emotion that passes over you. It only takes thirty seconds or so. I recommend you allow yourself a tear or two. It is cleansing.
Looking at the future
My wife and kids hugged me and they took me over to get my gear bag. As I waited for the volunteer to retrieve it, a guy walked up behind me. The sticker on his shoulder said he’d done 41 Birkies.
What an amazing life, and he was just standing there without any fireworks or paparazzi or anything.
It’s funny. I don’t know anything else about this guy. Who knows what his life is like? But I felt such an enormous surge of respect for that achievement. 41 Birkies! I looked him in the eye and said, “Congratulations!” and I patted him on the shoulder.
He was probably as tired and as emotional as I was. In that moment, I aspired to be that guy. I think he knew that’s what I was thinking. I might never see that guy again, but I think I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life.
Perspective
This year was a brush-with-mortality Birkie. I almost quit back in December. When I was younger, you could get away with a bad diet and minimal training. Those days are gone. I’ve got to work harder for it now. Every Birkie means more.
I need to stay fit so I can be there for my wife and kids. The Birkie is more important than an annual check-up. It lets you know if you’re where you need to be health wise. This year, skiing told me that I wasn’t, and I made the course correction to get back on track.
But it was a hard year.
Next year I’ll try for my 20th Birkie. I’m proud of my mom for being a Birchlegger. I hope I can make it so my kids can be proud of me too. I’ll try for it.
If I make it, there will be tears.
There will come a day when I can no longer do the Birkie. But it wasn’t this year. What a great feeling it is to look down on Main Street Hayward and know you’ve made it one more time.
