March 31st, 2008
The racing season is finally over, and after 25 races it is a little disappointing that the weather seems to be not quite as ready for spring as I am. Small and numerous snowflakes swirl past my window and cast a hazy cloud of mid-February aura around campus. It is difficult to realize that the muscle-numbing racing flings are over and the recharging period of the spring has arrived.
My mind was certainly still in race mode as our final race series at Canadian Nationals drew to a close. I could feel the exhaustion in my step wherever I walked but I could not get that feeling of flying up hills and driving my body to extremes out of my head. I needed one more go! My fingers tingled at the idea of a 15km mass start skate race at Lake Placid, a low key spring jaunt promising to feature US Biathlete Lowell Bailey.
Before gearing up for Placid however, I needed to fully recover from the hit to my immune system that occurred in form of a frustrating head cold after completing eight important races in thirteen days. I was bedside Tuesday and Wednesday of last week choking down as much Echinacea and Emergen-C as I could. The extra rest and possible overload of vitamins and Essential Oils did the trick however and I was back feeling close to 100% by Friday.
The following morning I woke up to a marvelous blue sky and bright early morning sun shining through my window. I threw on some Extra Blue and went for an easy classic ski doing some pick-ups where the terrain dictated speed and marveled at the fluffy, late March powder clinging to the trees. It was tough to leave the trails that morning but I scrambled back just in time to catch the van to Placid with the few kids who also felt the urge to ski fast one last time this season.
The last race of the season couldn’t have come on a better day! The sun was working hard to raise the zero degree temperatures of the night before to a comfortable 30 degrees at race start and low 40’s by the time we finished. The mass start took off with a sigh and last effort grunt from just about everyone. There were four or five of us clinging to the train led by Lowell Bailey but we began to spread out when we hit the hills at about 3km. I was feeling pretty solid cruising right on Lowell’s tail but managed to pole in between my skis and fall on my face not long after we began to drop the group. Falling in the last race of the year is little different than goofing up in a big race and flailing desperately to return to the pace. This time I managed to stand back up and that was impressive enough to me, so I ignored that I probably wasted a good chunk of time lying there pondering whether I enjoyed the little break more than racing.
I did get up, I did try to catch back up to Lowell, I did go too hard doing so, and I did bonk. At about 10km, for the second time in my life, I seriously considered dropping out, and in such a small race I was surprised when I suddenly thought of something Liz Stephen had told me this past December. She had mentioned to me after a particularly challenging race in Canada that “There is something special about being a Burkie; in any given race you have the ability to go harder and put yourself through more pain than anybody else, even if you aren’t going the fastest, you can still hurt the most.”
I remembered her words and in an overly dramatic way sprinted hard the last three kilometers. When I crossed the line I think I finally realized what Charlotte Kalla must have felt like after winning the all uphill, final stage of the Tour de Ski, that feeling, without the glory. But I felt just as glorious for about five minutes as I lay there panting. I finished, my season as well as that extremely difficult course, and it felt great.
