A classic Birkie
Dared to go old school, this skier reconnects with the event
by Mark Parman 
| The author classic skis to the finish line of the 2006 American Birkebeiner.
Photo by Bob Bergstrom |
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Well, how did I get here?" That Talking Heads lyric kept looping through my mind last February at the start of the American Birkebeiner, where I found myself off to the side
in the diagonal tracks with a handful of other classic skiers. I looked over at Tom Krenz, who looked like he was thinking the same thing. Like a couple of junior high kids, we'd double dared each other into striding the race "I'll do it, if you do it." Over there away from the crowd, it felt a bit like we were at the back of the bus. The skaters outnumbered us 50 to 1. Windmilling my arms to keep warm while waiting for the
minutes to tick down, I had ample time to question my decision to classic ski the 51K of the Birkie after 15 years of skate skiing the race. Would my kick wax last the entire distance? More importantly, would my back and my arms make it to the finish? But there we were. The die had been cast. For many years, I'd talked myself out of classic skiing the Birkie, even though a traditional ski on the Birkie Trail
seemed like a rite of passage for any devout cross-country skier. Mostly, I didn't want to part with my elite wave starting spot, which I would surely lose if I didn't skate ski the race. After all, classic skiing is relatively slower than skate skiing – about 10 percent to 13 percent for skiers proficient in both techniques. Last year, only Stig Fakstad of Lillehammer cracked the top 200, with an impressive 147th overall finish.
That excuse, however, was simply my ego talking. Nevertheless, it's a real concern, particularly given the wave hierarchy of the Birkie community. More freestyle skiers, especially those in the upper waves, might stride the Birkie if doing so wouldn't affect their wave placement. Another lame excuse I had was not wanting the extra hassle of waxing a classic ski, which needs both glide
and grip wax (unless one uses a no-wax ski, which isn't a bad idea in certain conditions). For those susceptible to wax panic, multiply that fear and trembling by two. Actually, glide waxing the tips and tails is the easy part of classic waxing. Classic skiers are more concerned with getting the kick wax right for skiing uphill and less about glide wax for the downhills and flats.
With the excellent conditions last year – due to newly fallen, cold, sharp crystalline snow – waxing was about as simple as it gets. Even so, I panicked and corked in a couple more for insurance right before the start – on top of the seven or eight I'd corked in at home. Burning off all my kick wax well before Lake Hayward would make for one long day, I reasoned. As a final insurance policy, I tucked a thin slice of Swix Extra Blue into one sock and a cork in the other.
I've manufactured a few more flimsy excuses over the years that kept me from classic skiing the race. I just kept doing what I'd always done: skating. It took that double dare to make the switch to striding. So there Krenz and I were on the last Saturday of February strapped to those seemingly over-long skis, holding those short poles and wondering what we were in for.
After the cannon blew to start the race, the skating pack quickly disappeared down the trail, and we handful
of classic skiers left behind had the trail to ourselves. The white expanse of the trail, strangely empty, stretched before us. We experienced none of the skating frenzy – the traffic jams at the base of the climbs, the numerous tangles, the broken poles and the inevitable cussing. It was oddly quiet. I could hear my labored breathing, my heart pounding in my ears, our poles and skis on the cold, dry snow. I could concentrate on skiing.
The Powerline hills often determine one's fate in this race. Feeling strong up those sharp climbs often points toward a good race. Feeling run down and tired there often means pain and suffering for the next 49K. In either situation, those hills are brutal as hundreds of skiers jockey for position; the peaks of the hills matching the peaks of maximum heart rates. Those hills – or the fury with which we attack them – have disheartened thousands of skiers.
By classic skiing, though, we skipped all that Powerline craziness. My heart rate was elevated, for sure, but my pace wasn't unsustainable, in part because I was skiing more relaxed, but also because classic skiing is more efficient uphill than skating. Maybe it's all in my head, but it seems easier striding up those infamous climbs than it does V-1ing up them and stepping on the skis and poles of those in front and alongside me.
Skaters obviously have the speed edge in this race. Without the drag of grip wax, V-2 skate skiing is faster on the flats and slight downhills. This became obvious as skaters passed us on the downhills and pulled away on the flats, while we flailed away at the double pole, using just our arms. On the other hand, we slowly regained lost ground on the climbs.
The slower a skater skis uphill, the more the skis move off to the side, not directly down the trail like classic
skis. As long as a classic skier can stride up a hill and not lapse into a herringbone, the skis go straight up the hill, in the direction of travel.
Classic skiing works efficiently on a hilly trail like the Birkie Trail. In fact, I enjoyed the hillier sections of the course much more than the flatter second half that ends with a long double pole across Lake Hayward, three flat kilometers into a headwind. Overall, though, the course treats classic skiers well.
The American Birkebeiner has been a de facto freestyle race for the past 20 years. But for its first decade or so, it was a classic race. We sometimes forget this. When the skating revolution turned cross-country skiing on its head in the '80s, Birkie skiers scrambled to learn the new technique and classic skiing simmered on the back burner.
Some races, notably the Norwegian Birkebeiner and the Swedish Vasaloppet, never caved to the demands
of skaters and remained traditional races. Today, even in the speed crazy United States, classic skiing is making a comeback. High school and college programs today recognize the foundation classic skiing teaches. More and more ski program directors give preference to neither technique and races are split evenly between the two disciplines. Our national team, for example, never gave up classic, despite the brilliant Olympic and World Cup skate performances by Bill Koch.
Regardless, many older skiers, including Birkie veterans, have yet to discover the value of classic skiing. For some, it might be a matter of buying yet another ski package – separate skis, boots, bindings, poles and wax. Others struggle to find time to train for one technique, let alone two. The waxing, particularly Klister, intimidates skate skiers. It's so simple to slap on skate skis and go without the worry of the kick wax.
Call me a traditionalist or a curmudgeon, but I think skate-only skiers are missing out on at least half the fun of skiing. They're missing out on thousands of years of ski history – that ancient and simple feeling of kick and glide. Additionally, they're missing other benefits of classic technique – balance, aerobics and a change of pace. Classic technique works in certain conditions and places: the backcountry, as well as in deep and cold snow.
American Birkebeiner officials are working to break through the dominant skate-only mentality and lure skaters back to classic technique – as well as attract new classic skiers, many intimidated by the skate crowd. The new 9K section of classic-only trail at the start of the race is a step in that direction. Planning for more kilometers of classic trail continues. The race now gives out awards and recognizes both techniques. There's even talk of separate skate and classic races in the future.
And why not? After all, classic skiing is the foundation of any race named Birkebeiner. Torstein Skevla and Skervald Skrukka, the original Birkebeiners, didn't skate. you know. They skied.
Mark Parman lives in Wausau, Wisconsin, where he teaches English and journalism at the University of Wisconsin-Marathon County. Parman, pictured here, classic skied the 2006 Birkie to 359th place overall in a time of 2:50:40.
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