After the cruel punishment that the Snow Gods have bestowed upon the American Birkebeiner in years past, 2008 will be remembered as the year that They made up for all past transgressions. Even the drive up to the North Woods from the Chicago suburbs on Tuesday morning was different this year. Snow mounds were piled everywhere. There was not a patch of brown to be had anywhere north of the Wisconsin border. I knew that even if we experienced a few of those fifty degree days that Birkie week has come to expect, the race would be on.
Arriving in Cable and setting up our wax room was my top priority. Sharing a house with 12 skiers, some of whom are actually fast, means the fluor will be flying. As the Midwest Wax Tech for Solda Wax, I wanted to make sure we were prepared for any conditions. When the boys start arriving, I see skis in all conditions. Some of them have not been waxed since last year’s Birkie, while others are shiny, lightning fast, and just waiting for the wax of the day.
Studying the weather for a week before the race made for some interesting conversation this year. The major weather services were – as usual – all over the board. Some of them had temperature differences of as much as 10 degrees Fahrenheit for race morning. The one thing I knew for sure was that the snow temperature was going to be cold. The amount of snow on the ground and the low temperatures during the day had created a thermal pack that the Birkie Trail had not experienced for years. Doing some glide testing soon after my arrival, it was evident that the snow temperature did not catch up to the air temperature until about 11:00 a.m. and that was only in the sun. Like it or not, the guys in my wax room were going to be waxing for cold snow temp, not air temp. That is the way it should always be, but that message is sometimes difficult to sell.
Race day dawned a bit less sunny than predicted and a few degrees colder, but the snow held steady at a cool -12 Fahrenheit. As soon as I rousted myself out of bed and checked the conditions, I knew we were dialed in. If only my engine could go as well as I knew my skis would. Heading over to the start, I saw the temperature on the car computer slowly rise, and the sun even peeked out a few times. Hopefully it was coming out to stay. I listened to the start on the radio and was as surprised as anyone when they announced a ten-minute delay due to “traffic congestion.†The cynic in me immediately wondered which stud was missing from the start line. I heard the cannon boom and hoped that my friend Jim Didomenico had fast skis and would continue his streak of being Illinois’s top skier. Without the ability to even get a sniff of the Elite Wave, most of us in my Birkie Posse live vicariously through Jim.