Andrew Joda's Birkie Recap

A short recap of my raceday in the 50K Skate event at the Birkie - Race Of The Century Every Year:

I began the day at approximately 0500 CST, with a morning routine I have perfected over many years of racing and coaching. A rare morning on which I am racing is not too dissimilar from a morning on which I am coaching and making skis in that there is copious caffeine consumption as well as a fair amount of caloric intake. Shortly after 0600 saw the departure of my vehicle, which contained myself, my brother David, and my esteemed mother, Sarah, who was taking care of driving the vehicle from the Pilot Fish parking lot to Hayward to rendezvous with us after the race. I was driving. My skis, as well as David's, were inside the vehicle, after I carefully prepared them the night prior making my best guess as to wax given the forecast and current conditions. Traffic was clear all the way until about a mile from the turn, slightly more backed up than usual but not a major cause for alarm. During the entire drive stoke was high, and terminology such as "whapsticks" were used extensively.

Bussing to the start did not seem to be moving slowly, but we did arrive at the start area later than intended and expected. David and I began jogging immediately after debussing, and that proved to be the only warmup for either of us, a decision that was out of our hands and eventually came back to haunt me. With the snowfall and winds, the start warming tent had partially collapsed. I went through a tent flap that clearly stated "KEEP OUT" and changed into my ski boots and put my jersey and bib on. A crucial foresight was to use overboots with toe warmers affixed underneath, as to not impact my boot figment but yet still provide much needed warmth during the race.

I placed my drop bag in the appropriate pile and donned my bottle belt. My anxiety level increased slightly as I had intended to transfer a thermos of warm Gatorade, No Doz, and tea to Matthew Dugan but he had been unable to make it to the start. Is limited to the 24 ounces of go juice in the bottle on my hip, the race support offered by the organizers, and any feeds from benevolent non-racers. The time was now 0817, I had three minutes until I started.

I entered the gate and found Matt Wong and Jay Woodbeck, and fastened my pole straps and clicked into my bindings behind them, in the last row of the start pen. They did an exceptional job skiing fast yet controlled out of the start and I found myself in around 60th place due to their expertise in mass starts after the trail narrowed. Without having skied on raceday morning, and opting for a light jog instead of ski on Friday, I had no idea of the snow condition until the race started. The conditions were about as good as I could have expected given the weather leading up to Saturday, that being fairly slow and soft; with cold dry snow I could already predict a long day on course for not only myself but for most of the field. The wind was prominent and from a westerly direction, a boding omen for the unprotected segments of the course late in the race in which the direction of travel is towards the setting sun.

I continued to move up over the first ten kilometers, and even though the classic race followed a different course than the skate event, I was able spot Coach Haggenmiller through the sparse flora and shout some words of encouragement. I could surmise by his non-response a few theories: that he did not hear me, that his day was not going as will as mine, that he had a mindset of intense concentration whilst locked in a fierce battle with another racer, or that this competitor with which he was skiing was also named Joe and mistook my encouragement as being for the anti-Haggenmiller.

I then enveloped myself into a swift moving pack and had Woodbeck in my sights approximately 30 seconds in front of us, when tragedy struck. I was negotiating a chicane downhill section and took the best line, when the skier behind me took a tighter, less efficient line and cut me off slingshotting from my draft. I moved out to avoid a collision and had my inside ski catch some chop and went down hard. I sprang up immediately but had already lost 10 seconds to my former pack just from losing momentum. After I continued down the hill, I had the sickening realization that my bottle, my lifeline, my messianic elixir, fell out of the belt during the fall and remained at the site of the debacle. I was now forced to make a tough decision: use extra energy to chase back on to the group I was with, or try to limit losses and energy expenditure until I could find a hand-up later on the course. After approximately two minutes of chasing I settled on skiing conservatively and hoping that another pack would come up to me eventually.

That pack arrived not a moment too soon. I soloed from 20K until around 25K, and was able to hang at the back of a group of no less than eight skiers until 36K. I endured mild cramping at 34K, which I was able to mitigate slightly for a few kilometers but eventually needed to slow down to avoid going over the brink. The lack of a full warmup had taken its toll earlier than I had anticipated and hoped. It was shortly after that when I encountered another demon, the dreaded bonk. I skied quite slowly to the next feed station and tried to choke down as much sustenance as I could before continuing up the trail. It wasn't enough. I struggled the remainder of the course, oscillating between bonking and cramping. I was fortunate enough to see Raphael Bechtiger handing out feeds with a supplier at 45K and he gave me a full bottle of Gatorade which I consumed immediately.

Through no less than sheer determination and willpower I found myself at the top of the last hill on the course. My legs were cramping so badly I could not tuck nor could I comfortably stand on my skis down the hill. I cannot clearly remember the last descent but vividly recall my approach to the lake at 47K, and how serene and peaceful the trail seemed without anyone around me. When I got on the lake it was another story, skiing from east to west, the wind that I had notice not 3 hours prior made a resurgence and brought me to a near standstill. I had barely enough cognizance to spot the 2K to finish sign. The supposed 1000m trek from that point until the 1K to go notification stretched for what felt like half an hour. The only thought in my mind at that point was to continue forward progress and fight the good fight all the way until the finish. I had no skiers within any short distance ahead of me, and the gap to the next skier behind me was also substantial. The presence of any challengers would not have changed my ski speed, though, as my mind had transcended all coherent thoughts and began attempts to communicate with the original Birkebeiner warriors across both space and time.

With multiple more lapses in conscious awareness I skied up Main Street and remained upright across the finish line despite my best attempt to throw my boot in search of precious tenths of seconds in finish time. My momentum carried me past the fall line and into the watchful gaze of a local media outlet spokesman. His insistence at interviewing me immediately after crossing the line could not be stalled by my lack of syllabic formation. He continued unabashed with questions which I could not answer, not for lack of knowledge but for lack of vocal fortitude.

After no less than five minutes of this tortuous exercise, during which my hands had froze completely, Michigan Tech alumnus Christopher Harvey finished and rescued me by pulling me towards the drop bags. With the weather impacting the finish zone changing tent as well, we opted to find a local commercial building with public restrooms and change into dry clothing there instead of walking the half mile towards the secondary option for the changing area. My decisions from earlier in the day again began to impact my well-being as I had only put a few minimal items into the drop bag and was without a dry shirt. Thankfully my race bib was not wet and worked to keep me warm for the few hours I spent in downtown Hayward replenishing calories before returning to our weekend's lodging.

QUOTES:
"It's always great to be racing in the hallowed land of the American Birkebeiner, Race Of The Century Every Year."

"It was a brutally slow and bitterly cold day, I'm just glad I was able to finish without any frostbite to speak of."

"My skis were competitive with the field despite the conditions. My hat's off to the wax techs who were able to get me the boards, it was too bad I want able to get my feeding dialed in properly to remain with the lead pack longer. All in all I'm just glad to have participated and finished though, and feel satisfied with my result despite my initial aspirations prior to race start."