Skinnyski Race Team Weekend Recap: Birkie Story
By Per Nelson
February 24, 2004
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.
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