Skinnyski Race Team Weekend Recap: Birkie Story

Friday morning I was on the golf course by nine AM. Phalen, that is. For a quick stretch of the old skiing legs. Some may recall a little misadventure that I had on the way to the Birkie last year. This year I took Friday off in order that there be no chance for repetition of the event. In fact, I didn't even leave the Twin Cities all week. So it was a great day. Margie went to class in the morning, and I, after enjoying a slow breakfast over the newspaper, went out for a morning ski.

I have always felt that vacation should be saved frugally (for a year or more) and then blown in one fell swoop on the most far reaching travel utilizing the maximum amount of time possible. Sort of the purge and binge philosophy. While putting finishing touches on our skis at 11:00 AM, I felt this once bedrock of personal dogma crumbling somewhat. Taking a nice, safe approach really has it's benefits. Relaxing, safe, risk-free. This, I thought, is the way to do the Birkie.

The start was nice and easy. I have never skied with such control in the first 2 km, certainly not in the Birkie. I gave in to a conservative strategy this year due to an absolute determination to finish in the top 200. Under normal circumstances I like to go out hard. Damn the torpedoes! If I die short of the finish line, or OO, it's only a race! In this case however, I had another circumstance to consider:

In an act of benevolence the Birkie forgave my 205th place indiscretion last year and let me start with the top 200. Of course to even make the request was difficult. Self deprivation runs deeply in my behavior; I was nearly compelled to take my punishment without appeal. In the end all it took was a little line on top of my entry "elite request". No begging, pleading, kneeling, or foot kissing. But it predestined me to hand-wringing anguish at the thought of being given the benefit of the doubt and coming up short.

By Mosquito Brook road, my play it safe strategy appeared to be paying off. I was in a pack with a couple guys I haven't seen between the start and finish of any race in the last 2 years. I had put down more sugar than in my last three Birkies combined. In short, I was feeling good. But climb after climb thereafter I weakened, and though I was in striking distance of a whole bunch of guys on the lake, all I could do was coast in with the tide of finishers. Not helping motivate was the assurance from spectators and intuition that my main goal was safe.

I can't wait til next year. I've seen the other side. Skiing with reckless abandon is a lot more fun.