24 Hour Ski Race

24 Hours of Telemark Race Report

Team: Sisterhood of the Ski presented by Horny Toad, Mountain Hardwear and A Stone's Throw

The race started Saturday at 10am at Telemark Lodge in Cable, WI (home of the Birkie and the Chequamegon Fat Tire Festival). I was racing on a 6-woman team for the full 24 hours. At 10am the team sent off our lead Sister, Val, while the rest of us sat around in camp chairs adorned with our sponsors logos and modeling our sponsors clothing making sure we had just the right vibe of nordic hardiness and cool chick fashionista.

And that wasn't easy as I had to do that for 5 hours before I actually had to go out and prove myself on the ski trail. I also had to endure many hours of people coming up to me to see how it went when I skied when I hadn't even got my skis out of their bag yet. Yes, I skied in 6th position so my morning was made up of waiting, waiting and waiting.

Finally, 3pm rolled around and it was time for me to strap on those ridiculously skinny, slippery boards and actually ski. Lap One I go charging out like a crazy fool with no thought of the hours left to ski. I had steadfastly refused to listen to anyone describe the course to me as I didn't want to sit around for five hours stressing. Thank god for that as this course was hard, hard, hard. Oh sure, there was probably a half kilometer of flat trail but pretty much it was climb, climb, climb followed by crazy steep fast downhill, followed by steep climbing, to steep climb, to wicked downhill to climb, climb, climb and back through the lap area.

So I skied out on lap one like a crazy person (you know, the kind that signs up for a 24 hour race) and am immediately hating life. The thing about skiing is the faster your try to go, the slower you actually go. So I'm flailing around and I seem to have forgotten what the poles are supposed to be for and I can't seem to glide and the snow on the hills is all deep and powdery and I'm trying to sprint up hills that you can only barely see the top of and not getting anywhere. Then I'm holding on for dear life on downhills that make me want to cry and finally after what seems like hours I'm back to the start/finish.

At this point I see the clock and realize that I have not completed my hour of skiing as only 26 minutes and 40 seconds have gone by. So I head back out to what seems like certain death . . . but this time I rein my enthusiasm in a little bit and remind myself to relax a little and try to ski (not charge) up the hills. Luckily Lap 2 goes a little better and I end my first round of skiing on a slightly more positive note.

And so the day and night goes really. Get done skiing, cheer on teammate who is heading out for the next round, go inside to warm up and change clothes, put boots and gloves on heater, stretch, stretch and stretch some more, take ibuprofin, put smelly stuff on knee to keep it limber, eat, eat, drink, drink and then try to rest.

My second stint of skiing was at about 10:45pm. All of the 3, 6 and 12 hour skiers were done and it seemed like almost no one was out on the trail. Your headlamp shown bright on the white snow and it was peaceful. With less people out on the trail it was easier to relax and ski. I got almost to the top of the longest hill before I even realized what hill it was and I almost was enjoying it. Yet at the same time it was this round of skiing when the little steep hills were frustrating me to no end and the dowhills were scaring me to death. I swore to myself that I would give up skiing and give up 24 hour racing. I would never do the 24 hour mountain bike race again, I would not sign up for any more ski races. That was it. I was insane to do these things. I thought I might not be able to do my four rounds of skiing that I might not be a good enough skier. I wasn't in a "good place" at this point. I needed yoga, meditation, a good hard shake, something but all I got was the realization that I would have to "buck up" and ski more.

My third time skiing was at 4:45am. Hardly anyone was lingering about in the start/finish area, the trails were quiet. It was just you and your skis gliding along. I was having fun again and even thought I might do 3 laps instead of two. There was no rush as I knew my teammate might not be out and ready in an hour. I took my time skiing. To conquer the downhills I perfected my newest skate ski technique which my teammates have entitled the "PT" for the Plow Tuck. It involves snowplowing like a madwoman until a certain point in the downhill where suddenly and quite unexpectedly you get into an aero tuck and try to get as much speed as possible. It also works to confuse the other skiers who clearly think you are insane. I was feeling better about life and skiing. I decided that I should sign up and do the Noquemanon ski race in a few weeks.

My fourth time skiing was about 9am when most people are done, showered, and just hanging out without a worry in the world. I used my last ski round to chat with people--the volunteers at the aid station, the solo 24 hour woman, and any other random people who would talk to me. It was my best ski as I had stopped worrying so much about my technique and just skied along. There was no rush as we were almost done and didn't need to fit in more laps. Somehow it was enough to make me completely forget the moments of absolute hatred I had for the course.

And then all that was left was the Podium appearance in our matching blue Mountain Hardwear vests and coordinating Horny Toad fleece sweaters. Damn we looked good! Oh yeah, and the five hour drive home on 3 hours of sleep. Thank god for caffeine, angry metal music, and interesting conversation as we all made it home in one piece.

And that is 24 Hour ski racing - the awesome teammates, the love of skiing, the hatred of skiing, the exhaustion, the repetitive pattern of ski, stretch, drink eat, rest and then get up eat, drink, get dressed, ski. It's both the most fun you can have and the worst time you can have all wrapped up into a quick 24 hours.

All I can really say is I'm really, really glad that it wasn't frigid cold and that the trails were not icey . . . oh yeah, and that I'm glad that I did it.