Race Coverage
Fat & Febrile...
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Thursday, 27 March 2014 01:10
By Bonnie HillwalkerThis month I caught a fever. Not spring fever, a viral fever, or even Saturday night fever. A much deeper fever.
1973 was a great year. I was miticulously focused on the next horse my Barbie should ride. Should it be the black stallion? How about the thoroughbred, or even the Belgian? So many awesome choices! Horses were my everything. I left the skateboarding, Frisbee throwing and especially the skiing for somebody else. That makes sense for a little girl growing up in Newport Beach, California where snow was just something I saw in pretty, glass globes at Christmas time. My parents did not ski, my friends could barely even spell skiing, so when I finally did hit the slopes ten years later, let's just say that thankfully the man who's back I used as a crash pad on the intermediate slope, following my first semi-successful run down the beginner's slope, did not end up in the hospital. He ended up in the chalet. Without saying a word, he walked slouched
over in a direct zigzagging fashion to the small building. He must've been craving some hot chocolate.
Tony Wise, on the other hand, was not playing with Barbie's or horse statues. He was off hitting the powder. He was also busily putting together a ski event so epic that people as far away as sunny California and other parts of the world would embark on a journey to the humble town of Cable, Wisconsin just to be a part of it. Tony created the American Birkebeiner Ski Foundation, currently the largest ski race in North America. This year marked the 41st anniversary of the Birkie, and if the feedback from my friends over the past few years is a good indicator, this is an event no skier wants to miss. Not only is the trail kept in mint condition (this year's budget reached over $130,000 according the website), but the beautiful surroundings and excellent atmosphere keep skiers coming back for more.
Well, all of that is great if you are a skier. After taking out a small child on my second try down the ski slopes back in the day of rotary phones, I hung up my rented skies and giant boots, and concluded the slopes were apparently not my thing. I needed something with a steering wheel or a horse. More recently, and over the past several winters, I have watched as a good portion of my triathlete friends get to go outside and cross-train while I sling my leg over my bike and ride on the trainer. I can identify every fiber in the carpet surrounding me blindfolded. I've also given them their own names like Speck, Dot and Frayed. But something happened. My husband vacuumed and ruined everything and Tony added a new category to the Birkie. Enter the Fat Bike.
I learned about the new fat bike category being added last year through a few friends but I was new to fat biking and so decided to wait and see how the inaugural went. After hearing positive reviews, I was ready and waiting to press the go button when registration opened up for this year's race. Two categories were offered - a short beginners course of 20k and a 47k expert course. I chose the short as I am no way near an expert in anything except ordering take-out and playing with horse statues.
Five hundred racers rolled up to the start line, hungry for a great race and a lot of fun. The experts took off a few minutes before the short course racers and soon we were fully engulfed in prestige beauty and a firm trail. I had been told by my skier friends that biking the course would be easy if I just got up enough initial momentum because the terrain is comprised of small rolling hills. After charging as hard as I could up the first hill in hopes of building enough momentum to coast the remainder of the course, I found that the backside of the hill offered another climb. Giving it all I had, I rolled over the top of hill number two. Then, much slower, hill three. Enter hill four. Suffering beyond the human imagination, I finally dismounted my bike for the next hill, silently cursing my skier friends. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one walking my bike at that point. If I was to compare the hills on this course to a roller coaster, let's just say I wouldn't pick the tiny train ride for teething toddlers. Montezuma's revenge or better yet, the Matterhorn would be more fitting. If there was one thing that became crystal clear to me as I crested the umpteenth hill it's that skiers are demented and cruel individuals with a sqewed perception of terrain. I made a mental note to have a chat with them, when I got back to the cities, and if I survived.
There were water-stops along the course with tons of great volunteers. I can never express enough how much I appreciate those who give freely of their time and energy to provide those of us with an unquenchable thirst for adventure and a hunger for races, support and heartfelt cheers. Thank you, volunteers!
Looking back I have asked myself if the hills were all that bad or if my perception was off because I was taken by surprise. I can honestly say yes. Yes, they were that bad. There were several occassions during which I think I had an out of body experience. But that's part of why I race- to challenge myself and do things I normally don't do. The Fat Bike Birkie was all I hoped it would be with it's beauty, logistics, course coverage for on-line spectators, and a challenge that made me proud to have accomplished it. Well done, Birkie. See you next year!
www.birkie.com
