Cable to Hayward, 2/21/2009.

Pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/PJToft/Birkie2009#

Since returning to XC skiing in 2007 (after about a 10 year layoff), I had been kicking around the idea of doing this race. I almost made a last-minute call in 2008 to go, but had a conflict that kept me from making the trip. That turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as I’m pretty sure looking back that it would have been a miserable day given my training, knowledge, and gear at the time. By the end of last winter, I was sure I wanted to sign up, so I did in early October. I picked up some waxable skis, set about learning the mysteries of grip and glide waxing, and skied as much as I could as soon as the first snow fell.

Pre-Pre-Race

The 54 kilometer Birkie Classic is one of 4 races that start together on race day (the others are the freestyle 50k Birkebeiner, and 23k freestyle and classic races called the Kortelopet).

The classic start is done in 8 waves of skiers from both the Birkie and Korte races leaving together at 10 minute intervals, with a total this year of 2000+ classic racers. Another 5000 do the freestyle races, leaving in between the classic waves.

Wave placement is based on previous finishing times, so new skiers are generally relegated to the last wave. There are a few races, however, where you can submit your finishing time and ask for an earlier wave. I raced the Mora Vasaloppet 42k classic on February 8, had a decent day on a very gentle course, and was pleasantly surprised to be moved from wave 8 to wave 4. This was good for a few reasons. First, the trail would be slightly less chewed up for the earlier waves. Second, I suspected based on estimated pace and finishing times that I would have to pass a fair number of people if I started with the last wave. Passing on classic skis is not ideal—you sometimes have to hop out of the tracks and stride on looser snow, or really hit the climbs, expending a lot of energy. It’s far better to start with racers going your pace or faster.

Pre-Race

I finished glide waxing on Wednesday night based on recommendations from Swix. I left the kick waxing to be done on site, based on weather forecast as of the day before. Hilary, my friend Jake and I drove up Friday morning and registered at Telemark lodge in Cable, checked into our hotel, and went to Hayward for a pre-race pasta dinner. As it turned out, I didn’t have the exact types of klisters that were being called for in the kick zone, but I used one that was close, coated it with hard wax, and hoped for the best.

I woke up around 5:40 on Saturday and had a breakfast of coffee, a bagel, some banana bread, and water. I had a 300-calorie bottle of sports drink that I intended to sip right up to the start, too.

We had about ½ inch of new snow overnight, and were a bit surprised to see temperatures already over the day’s predicted high at 6:45 in the morning. That did not bode well for the wax job, but I figured most everyone would be in the same boat.

The logistics of getting 7000 skiers to the starting line are fairly complicated, and involve finding a school bus at one of several remote parking or drop off points a few miles from the start. Saturday morning, Hilary drove Jake and I to a dropoff point and I hopped a bus for Telemark. Once there, I geared up. I ditched the chemical toe warmers and overboots due to the higher temps, but carried a 900-calorie bottle of concentrated Infinit sports drink and some emergency kick wax.

The Race

My wave started at 9:00. Unsure of my pace relative to the rest of the skiers (most of whom had at least done 1 Birkie or Korte before), I lined up towards the back of the crowd. Big mistake. For the first 4k, I was at the back of a train moving at a pace somewhere between walking and a slow trot. Passing was futile because the line was about 15-20 people deep all across the trail.

At the 4.5k point was the first aid station. While I generally try to never skip a drink, I was feeling very fresh and also noticed that a large number of skiers from my wave were stopped. So I skied through and found a bit of open space. Within a few hundred meters, however, I hit a second, somewhat smaller wall of people and had to reduce speed again. I made a few passes on the uphills by hopping out of the tracks and doing a quick-jog herringbone. But by and large the crowding went on until about the 9k mark, when the Kortelopet skiers turned off onto their own trail and there was finally room to move at my own pace.

The trail for the first 27k is very, very hilly. There are almost no stretches of flats or gentle downhills, so double poling is rare and climbing or descending is the norm. I had my sole fall of the day somewhere around the 18k mark, when I popped out of the tracks on a downhill turn, lost my weighting from my outside foot, and started rocketing towards the outer edge of the trail (which had a nice dropoff). Sometimes it is best to know when trying to stay up will do more harm than good (pulled muscle, hitting a tree, etc.), so I laid down on my side and skidded about 30 feet downhill. Thankfully, there was nobody too close behind me. The surface where I fell was fairly powdery and no damage was done except to the ego. I made a mental note to pay closer attention to the hills and continued skiing.

Just before the halfway point there were a pair of even steeper curving descents. The inner part of the trail here was bare of the new snow, leaving mostly exposed ice bordered by high berms of powder where earlier skiers had pushed the snow. Defense mechanisms kicked in and I went into a snowplow descent, very slow, very beginner-ish, but also kept me very much upright.

My kick was holding up so-so. A bit of slippage early as the coldest wax layer wore down, then “good enough” for most of the race. I don’t mind switching to herringbone climbing just to mix up the muscle work from time to time, so I did that where necessary.

There are some unique sights along the trail. An old wrecked truck filled with dummies and stuffed bears, all sporting old race bibs and ski gear. Near the halfway point, we passed Bubblehead hill, where snowmobilers gather to watch the skate skiers on a particularly difficult descent and cheer wildly when there is a crash. (Until very recently, classic skiers had to do the same stretch of trail, too). We could hear the yelling and cheering through the woods as we descended another part of the hill. I can’t say I was sad to miss that.

Just before the rough halfway point at highway OO, I passed the two traditionally-dressed Norwegian warriors and the princess, who are picked each year to re-enact the original Birkebeiner escape in costume and on wooden skis, carrying a doll for most of the race in place of the baby prince (they swap out the doll for an actual baby a few blocks from the finish). Hilary was also waiting at OO to do some cheering and take a few pictures. Checking my watch, I saw that I was at 2:37, slower than I wanted to be to get to my longshot goal of breaking 5 hours.

After OO, the terrain rapidly shifts to somewhat more gentle rolling hills. The classic course merges with the skate course at 28k and from there on I tried to pick up the pace a little more. Unfortunately, the snow conditions also turned somewhat warmer, slowing skis down. I stopped at every aid station (minus the first), to take a few mouthfuls of Infinit and a couple cups of water and some of the on-course sports drink. I was dressed a little warm for conditions and had to be mindful of dehydration.

At 42k was the second to last rest stop. Pre-race, I thought if I was feeling good here I would really attempt to let loose to see what pace I could do for the last 12k. Sadly, the trail had other plans for me. Shortly after the 42k mark, though, the hills returned. First up was Bitch Hill, a steep, straight climb decorated by local women who this year chose a 1950s rock and roll theme and were dressed in poodle skirts yelling encouragement. Then came a long series of climbs towards Lake Hayward. It was here that everything just seemed to give out. My right leg was on the verge of cramping, my glide was noticeably worse (whether from the wax wearing off, the warmer weather, poor technique from fatigue, or all 3 is unknown), and I felt the lightheaded hunger pangs that presage a bonk. I was definitely not the only one. People were literally toppling over mid-climb as leg cramps hit, stopping at the tops of hills to stretch and catch their breath, and in general not looking very happy.

By the time I hit Lake Hayward around 51k, I could see that sub-5 was out the window. Good thing, because the lake ski was miserable. A strong headwind was blowing air colder than anything we had experienced all day, and all you could see in front of you was a 2-kilometer line of skiers struggling to make their way across the lake to the finish. I fought to catch a classic skier about 25 yards in front of me and tucked in directly behind him to alleviate some of the wind.

Eventually, though, I stepped off the lake and climbed onto the streets of Hayward, which were covered in snow for the race. Main Street was lined with people cheering, and, at the end, the finish line.

My time was 5:06:47, with a negative split of over 7 minutes (gaining 74 spots in the second half of the race. 547/1227 overall, 471/1005 men, 29/69 in my age group.

After the race, I struggled for a few minutes to remove my skis, because the bindings had frozen to my boots. I headed to the changing tent to get into some dry clothes, had some soup, and met back up with Hilary and Jake to get a meal and some well-deserved rest.

In terms of things to do differently next time, I identified a couple:

1. Seeding myself further up front in my wave.
2. Eating a bit more at breakfast
3. Dressing lighter for the weather conditions.
4. Use a slightly more durable glide wax layer (I was not using a topcoat of race wax).

That plus another season of training should be good for a few extra minutes.