Birkebeinerrennet: The official Lillestange update

Greta "heia"ing Racer #625, with norsk 
og amerikansk flagger.

My apologies (mostly to my husband) on my delayed-by-a-week entry on the Birkebeinerrennet. I was all fired up about my own ski race, and pounded out a blog entry that very day. The Birkie is a much bigger deal than my measley 15K race attracting 4,000 women. This is a ski marathon, Norway's largest, one of the world's most well known races, 54km long, over a mountain, and attracting 16,000 racers! Yes, you read that right: 16,000 skiers. 

Just beyond the finish line.
Check out the bluebird skies! What a day.

I am not nearly nuts enough nor in shape enough to even dream about completing or competing in a Birkebeiner ski race. But Erik was, and reported that it was "fun". Also quite exhausting. And he's ready to do it again next year. And is dangerously close to becoming competitive about it. 


He woke at 3:20am, drove down the hill to Lillehammer, hopped on a bus at 4am, and was driven 2 hours to the start. Around 7am his wave (the 2nd wave of starters, based on qualifying race finishes) was allowed to place their skis at the start, and at 8:10am his wave started, just 5 minutes after the first wave. 


In the meantime, I was receiving text messages on my phone telling me what his times passed through a few checkpoints along the race. This was rather handy, as I was able to time our arrival at the finish rather well, as well as have a really accurate estimate of when we should be carefully watching for Erik to finish. 


Greta and I positioned ourselves about 400m from the finish line, complete with a small norsk flagg and a somewhat embarrassingly large amerikansk flagg (hey, it was all I had). It attracted some curious looks, which I admit was really kind of the point. We stood along a section of trail where the racers would first cross above us from right to left, then swing down a tight hill and pass in front of us again from left to right. This enabled me to spot Erik coming up a short hill, where we could cheer for him twice, then turn around, and sprint 100m through the snow carrying a 29lb kid + 10lbs of clothing, and cheer for him sprinting towards the finish. 

A slitten Pappa and a stolt Greta.

It was another beautiful day, with bright blue skis, temps hovering just around freezing. The snow and tracks were in excellent condition, according to Erik. And it was a well-timed race, as the next 4 days brought nothing but sunshine and above freezing temperatures. Spring had arrived (and none too soon, if you ask me).

Inga-Låmi (warning: i get a little babbly)

Today marked my triumphant return to ski racing, which has been mourning my absence for the last 18 years. Hard to believe my last ski race was when I was 5 years old, but it's true. . .


The Inga-Låmi ski race was held in Lillehammer today, and is Norway's largest women-only ski race, with generally around 4,000 women competing. There are two distances, 15km and 30km, both classic style. I opted for the slightly shorter 15km route.


The Inga-Låmi is the female version of the Birkebeiner ski race*, which I wrote about on August 28. Briefly, Inga was the single mother to Norway's infant King Håkon, who gave birth to her son in 1205 after his father, King Håkon Sverresson, had already died. The Birkebeiner ski, running and bike races commemorate the trip that the birkebeiner loyalists skied in 1206, as they rescued the infant King Håkon from the bad guys. Presumably, Inga skied much of the route along with the loyalists, because what mother would trust a bunch of cross-country skiers with her only child? The Inga-Låmi race was started in 1993 in order to celebrate and recognize Inga's role in Norwegian history. Want a not so brief history? Try here.

As I said, I haven't been in a cross country ski race for a number of years, the last time when I was a senior in high school. And since I had just learned to ski that year (joined the team, then learned to ski, in that order), I really only remember participating in one race. I've skied more this season than I've skied in probably the last 5 years combined, what with working full time, pregnancy, young baby, long drives to trails and shitty snow conditions. So, let's see this year: no job, not pregnant, child in nursery school, walk 3 minutes to the trails and best snow conditions EVER. I really have no excuse, other than sheer laziness and sometimes feeling like "I've had my fill of skiing for the year" (a feeling that could get me shot in Norway if I were to utter it out loud in March).

Erik waxing at the start.

So the day before the race, I decided to "race" the Inga-Låmi, if only for the cultural experience of skiing with 2,509 other Norwegian women. Turns out it was really fun.


While my race didn't begin until 11am, Erik had been volunteered (as part of his Lillehammer Ski Club duty) to wax skis at the race starting at 7:30am (the 30km race started at 9am). He reported being so busy that at one point each of the 30 waxers had 15 women in line, prompting Erik's table-mate to ask, "don't any women wax their own skis?" Other women, when asked by Erik what wax they currently had on their skis, would shrug and say, "whatever was on for last year's race," indicating that they hadn't skied since. . . last year's race.


This was, in part, why I felt comfortable deciding to do this race the night before. For many women, for most of the women I dare say, this was not a Race. This was an well-organized, popular ski tur. 


I walked to the race from our house, pushing Greta in her jogging stroller, feeling very norsk walking to a ski race, with my kiddo's own mini-skis sticking out of the stroller pocket. I arrived about 20 minutes before the race, found Erik frantically waxing a few skis, changed into ski boots, stripped off a few layers of clothing as the temps were quickly rising to high-20s (F), and decided to run to the porta-pottys.


Rookie mistake! I missed my 11am wave start (the first of the 15km timed-racers), and unnskyld-ed "sorry" my way towards the front of several hundred women waiting for their 11:10, 11:20, 11:30 start. A little unsure of what I should do, and who or how to even ask, I just told an official at the front, "Jeg er klokka 11!" (I'm 11 o'clock!) and since it was by then 11:05. . . I took off. . . by myself. Probably looking like a complete dork.


I had been getting a little nervous that morning as I gathered things together for the race, but then I thought, "what's the worse that could happen?" Aside from breaking a leg (highly unlikely), it was really just sheer exhaustion, and what's so bad about that? And I didn't think it was really all that possible in just a 15km race. So, my goal was to have fun and not be afraid to get a little tired; and about mid-way through the race I added a goal of "not falling".


Dumb. Shortly after that thought crossed my mind, I headed down a steep hill, gaining speed. I was also gaining on the woman in front of me, yet not able to move to either the left or the right due to other skiers. I attempted to snowplow, not terribly easy with one ski in a set track, and as soon as possible moved to the left-most track once it was clear, but didn't quite make it cleaning into the tracks, and crashed into the snow bank, a clearly American English expletive escaping my lips. I wanted to declare as I hopped back up, "Sorry, but I'm American! I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" Thankfully, I managed to avoid any other skiers, quite unlike another woman I saw 10 minutes later, who took out two women--one on either side of her--as she grabbed them to stabilize herself, heading down a hill.


By 13km I was feeling a little wobbly, hoping I could stay upright on the few short downhills we had left, because I wasn't sure I could correct and catch myself should I start to fall again. I pulled it off, and also managed to sprint to the finish, which I'm sure was a very impressive sight. . . 46 minutes after the race had been won. One hour, 29 minutes. 75th out of 160 in my age group. Not too shabby considering that at the beginning of the ski season I didn't even recognize my classic skis as being my own.

This kid's already so Euro: When told Mamma was going
to be in a ski race today, Greta asked, "On TV?"
Because every kid watches ski-racing on Saturday
mornings with their Pappas, right?

It was one of the more beautiful late winter days we've had--bright blue sunny skies--and Erik announced when I was finished "in all my years of ski racing, 99% of the races did not have weather like this." Next weekend is the Birkebeiner, a race in which Greta announced, "the pappas put the numbers on their legs and ski and the mammas stay home with the kids." We then decided that actually the mammas don't stay home, "they go to the race and hi-ya, hi-ya** the pappas."


So, sign me up for next year. It was great fun. And if I do it for 10 years, I get a cool statue of Inga herself.


* Yes, women are allowed to compete in the Birkebeiner races.


**Hi-ya! Hi-ya! is the most popular of Norwegian race chants, and is actually
used as a verb, as I was once asked--in English--"Did you hi-ya for Norway or USA?"


August 28

Birkebeiner Løppet and our First Visitors!

Erik ran the Birkebeinerløppet this weekend--the half marathon trail race that is part of the 3 Birkebeiner races. We got a big kick out of what was included in his pre-race shwag kit: men's lotion, diet shake, Floradix magnesium supplement, sardines and. . . . classic brown sauce!

What every runner wants: sardines and
brown sauce, with a little diet shake
to wash it all down.

Erik's parents are visiting Norway for what they declare is the "first of many visits". It's a nice way to think about it, because we don't feel the pressure of doing everything in just one visit. They stayed with us Thursday night through early Monday morning. We were able to visit Greta's barnehage and our local grocery store, see Erik finish a very muddy race and still smile at the end, buy some winter boots and slippers for a growing girl, do the requisite visit to Maihaugen, and eat reindeer and lamb (sorry vegetarian readers: it is slaughter season, and it was good). 

His parents left this morning to visit Voss, where they will stay with one of Erik's former teachers from the Folk School. They will then continue on to Bergen, where we hope it won't rain on them. Next weekend we will meet them in Oslo for some exploring.

With Oma (Cyn) and a muddy Erik at the
finish of the Birkebeinerløppet 

Birkebeiner Rittet (Birke Bike Race)

Here is a test of our video system, the Flip Camera. How well, and large, and how slowly will this load to our blog?

The Birkebeiner Rittet, a 93km mountain bike race, finished just a few kilometers down the hill from our house this weekend. Friday was the first day of racing, for those who didn't get in to the "real" race on Saturday. Friday was a beautiful, cool, sunny day. Saturday was a rainy, freezing, foggy, miserable day. By the time the racers reached the end of our driveway, they were covered in mud, cold, wet, and had a 3km windy descent to the finish. I heard some racers were so cold they couldn't even hold their water bottles once they finished. 


For those not in the know, the Birkebeiner originally started out as a ski race, commemorating a trip made by Norwegian loyalists who skied through the mountains to save the heir to the Norwegian throne, Håkon Håkonsson, in 1206. There are now three races: the ski race (54km), the mountain bike race (94 km), and a cross-country running race (21km). All participants in the bike and ski race are required to carry a 3.5kg pack on their back, symbolizing the weight of the one-year old child. To which I say: I gave birth to an exactly 4.0kg child--8lbs 13 oz--so that it is one malnourished one-year old king.


The Birkebeinerrittet is the largest mountain bike race in the world. On Friday, I walked to Greta's barnehage along the race course, and during the 15 minute walk over 300 cyclists rode past. There were around 15,000 participants in the bike race over the two days, so there was a nearly constant squeal of squeaking bike brakes all of Saturday as the racers began their final descent past our driveway. We had to abort a trip into Lillehammer around 9:30am, as we couldn't get through the road at the bottom of the hill due to a children's race, and when we turned around to go back home, we were blocked by the first stream of racers. We left our car parked on the roadside, and hiked our way back up the hill.