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Yes, it will Footloose with Bruce Steinberg It will survive. By 'it' I mean the American Birkebeiner. And here are my reasons why it will survive, and thrive, despite Mother Nature's sarcastic no-snow-then-too-much-too-late-sock-to-the-gut snowfall she gave to the Cable-Hayward area this 2006-07 winter season. Reason 1: Manfred Nagel Remember Manfred? Newer Birkie skiers won't. To those who haven't heard of him, you have passed by Manfred Nagel's photograph on the wall at Telemark while picking up your race bibs. It is significant that he appears there three times. In the early 1990s, Manfred of Austria and I of the Banana Belt first appeared on the Birkie scene. He in first place year after year; me in the last wave, doing the flying herringbone the whole Kortelopet because I was still six months away from getting a copy of Lee Borowski's Simple Secrets of Skating. Manfred was dominant and the toast of Cable and Hayward; I was one of the masses, a regular member of an Illinois training team dubbed "Team Jamoke" whose motto was "Hey, we already know we're not going to win." Where is Manfred now? I have no idea, except he has not been coming up for the Birkie for a long time. I hope he's well. Every year the Birch Scroll includes a breakdown of the number of racers that year based on the total number of Birkies completed. Most participating skiers have completed one, two or three. Then the numbers drop off rather quickly. Since it is now 35, this attrition can no longer be blamed on the youth of it. Fact is, despite the increasing numbers of 10- and 20-year finishers, we all age and change. Yesterday's champions will not win forever, and most will eventually stop coming to ski it at all. Those in the elite and upper waves will not stay in that rarefied atmosphere forever. And among all those who register these days, many will ask "Who?" at the mention of a previous champion, such as three-time winner Manfred Nagel. In the face of a rough winter, survival is not of the fittest but of the masses. We flock to the Birkie for many of the reasons on this list and more. Reason 2: Wave addiction Let's face it, many of us have wave addiction, and the Birkie is steeped in waves. We gawk at those wearing the bib piping of the elite and upper waves and wonder whether we can get there, stay there and not have to suffer iced surfaces laced with tidal wave ridges on those downhill turns. Some years ago, I read an article about a handful of skiers who, labeling themselves the Anti-Birkies, skied elsewhere on Birkie day on purpose to prove a point. I'm not sure what that point was other than that they missed out on skiing "it." Yes, cross-country skiing is usually thought of as an activity you can enjoy on your own, with family or a few friends and in silence to observe nature and experience oneness with the trees and sky. Skiing is not generally thought of as a 50-plus kilometer slog spent surrounded by scores of other men and women thumping their skis on snow and grinding up and down hills. However, the Birkie is the "it" that motivates many a skier to get out there on snow, on roller skis when necessary, and to keep in shape. Clearly there is room for both racing and touring throughout the winter season, and room for the novice and expert and everyone in between. A racing versus touring conflict simply does not exist except for those who impose it on themselves. So, to the Anti-Birkies, I admit to having wave addiction. But I do not see it as a necessarily bad thing. Reason 3: The post-pregnancy pain forgetting factor This is dangerous ground to tread for a male – a mere witness to the actual blessed event. But for most of us men and for many women, the aftermath of finishing the Birkie is not the same but is analogous to the pain of delivering a baby. At the finish line, we're glad we've done it, glad about the result, but often swear we'll never do it to ourselves and our bodies again. Yet somehow a little time goes by and the pain gets lost amidst thoughts of doing it again. Reason 4: Main Street Approaching and then skiing down Hayward's Main Street after 51K and several hours of skiing before a crowd of cheering friends and strangers is just so cool. Reason 5: The final test of one's training Scheduled at the end of February, the Birkie remains the last and ultimate test of our training and skill. Reason 6: You're equipped You've bought all the equipment, clothing and wax, and you've been seen on roller skis I. What, like you're not going to do the Birkie? Reason 7: The 'it' itself Ask yourself why it has become what it has become. Its width is not typical of the usual cross-country ski trail, which makes it unique. The relentless of the hills inherently lends it ultimate challenge status. The area itself – the towns and volunteers – contribute to its allure. There's the circular impact of an influx of participants that requires a wave start that results in wave addiction that lasts the year over. It's like a perpetual motion machine that maintains our interest. And there's the aforementioned fact that it's scheduled at or near the end of the ski season. The Birkie has survived bad snow years, shake-ups in its administration, changes in course direction, shifts in ski technique, vanishing water supplies for latter wave participants, debates over wave placement criteria, even more heated debates over races named after a certain Norwegian prince, disputes with Rosie and her field, troubles with busing logistics, resort bankruptcy, grooming issues and the annual sight of a mass of middle-aged (and beyond) men and women in skin-tight pastel Lycra. It has a way of adjusting, adapting, improving and surviving. It goes on for the masses long after its champions retire. I, like most of you, have family or work matters that trump it from time to time. This is as it should be. But as I write this in early March, I look out my window and see late season snow, and I think of doing "it" in 2008. In truth, I don't know exactly why. Perhaps this intangible – that something that varies within all of us – is what makes the Birkie into the it that it has become. Bruce Steinberg lives in St. Charles, Illinois, with his ski waxing intolerant but otherwise loving wife and their young son.
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