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By: WE Bluestocking OK, so strapping on a pair of sticks to your feet is fun.
And swishing your way through the white fluff is all that
the avid skier wants. Well, not necessarily…let’s
take those sticks and use them consecutively for three
actual work days; in most instances that would equate to
eight times three. That’s right folks, twenty-four
hours. Now I don’t know about you, but my mind slaps me
to reality when I think about that. Nothing, I repeat
“nothing” is fun for eight hours! Oh, and
let’s add, or I should say deduct an ample supply of
the white fluff. Welcome to the second annual 24-Hour Ski
Race at Telemark Lodge. Mind you, this is my first experience as a volunteer for
this challenging event. I must admit with great pride that I
know several of the contestants, and I can testify to the
fact that they are all athletes extraordinnaire. Of course
if they know me, that only means they have numerous
personalities, a gregarious sense of humor, and the gift to
talk all the ears of corn out of Iowa. Speaking of Iowa, did I mention Decorah Bicycle had two
teams at this most awesome event? Jacky and Ward Budweg
managed to creatively name their two teams Decorah Bicycles
One and Decorah Bicycles Too! Now, if you really wanted to
get creative, the names could have easily been Decorah
Bicycles Won and Decorah Bicycles Two. But, since they both
“Won” it doesn’t really matter anymore. And
if you followed that…you fit right in with this group.
Upon late arrival Friday evening at the Sawmill, which is
the local pub of quaffing, spirits were high. Ward and Jacky
owners of Decorah Bicycle were pumped; they brought along
Tipeetoes for moral support, so I didn’t feel like the
only person sane enough not to do this crazy race. As I
stated earlier, nothing, I repeat, “nothing” is
fun, for eight hours! I know this from doing the Birkie last
year for my first time. Although I barely lived to tell that
story, I must admit, there’s something about
perseverance that drives the human body to exceed all sorts
of limits. To me, exceeding my limits generally refers to my
molten red credit cards. I’ll stick to that old saying
I believe Benjamin Franklin coined: “everything in
moderation.” As strategies emerged, and what I’d
consider a light night of alcohol consumption for this
group, most were anxious to retreat to their rooms for what
little sleep they would encounter in the next 30 hours or
so. The warriors Ward and Tipeetoes had other plans that
still gave testimony to the fact men are still men. A
“girly bar.” Although Ward did try to defend their
actions, stating they were contributing in order to up swing
the establishment’s failing economy, which was due to
the lack of adequate snow. The girls were hurting
monetarily, and Ward and Tipeetoes were here to rescue them
for the dregs of poordum (pun intended). And, so they
did. Meanwhile, back at the lodge sleeping arrangements were
being discussed. I being the only single female there would
get my pick of who shared my bed. My demands were simple,
there would be no flatulence, nor snore mongers sharing my
sofa’d sleep. Immediately the two guys in the room,
Doug and Steve made a mad dash for the outside patio.
I’m not certain if this was to toss a coin, or to
immediately evacuate all the methane from their systems.
More likely the latter. It is at this point I recall the
trickery of Harry. Someone was doing a major down load of
gas passing in the room. We thought it was one of the guys,
but pinned it on Kay in the other room who amusingly said it
was she. Little did we know that Harry had a remote control
flatuator! I ask you, what is this World coming to? Jacky
mentioned Tipeetoes sharing my sleeper, but I recoiled like
a snake bitten by reality. This guy was at a strip joint as
we spoke, mix that with alcohol and you have a combination
worthy of a call to a crisis line. No, Tipeetoes would not
be a suitable candidate. So, it was determined Steve would
share the sleeper sofa. The poor man, he agrees to do this
race at the last minute because one of Ward’s people
canceled, (whose name we will mention…thanks Wide Body
Dale) and then he gets subjected to sleeping with a strange
woman (take that for what it’s worth), unable to snore
to his leisure, unable to flatulate to his heart’s
content. I can testify he made many runs to the bathroom
that evening. I suspect he skied sleeping, because he
certainly didn’t gain any Z’s in the room. He gets
the “Atta Boy” award…what a trooper. Again I
must reiterate, it’s amazing what the human body will
endure. It begins with Saturday morning, up early, spirits still
high, but for some reason I feel the air is thick with
questionable competencies. Looks of anticipated anxiety
mixed with endorphins so high we could have raised a hot air
balloon in the room. Jacky the dietitian was methodically
arranging the soups, pastas and miscellaneous items for
accessibility, in our two adjoining rooms. Me, well I was
heating up my sustenance for the day, Sangria wine, apple
cider, Seven-Up, and cinnamon sticks. Ah, the breakfast of
champions! Besides my volunteer stint didn’t come up
until 11 o’clock that evening. I had plenty of time to
detox before then. Of course I was there for moral support
too, which included back rubs, legs rubs, whatever was
necessary to pull the teams spiritually through this ordeal.
Harry, Tipeetoes, and I were the team cheerleaders.
It’s my philosophy, in order to raise the team’s
spirits, it was naturally necessary to raise spirits in
their names! Charts came out, analyzing team strategies, who skis,
first, second, third and fourth. It became evident that Team
One was trying to listen in on Team Too’s plan of
action. I was introduced to Ward’s sister Laura, who
seemed pretty nervous, but still able to talk. She was on
Ward’s team (Team One) and concerned about one of their
team members, Mark, who was recovering from the flu. Not a
good sign, but hey I was secretly rooting for Team Too,
since Kay and Jacky were on that one, along with Doug and
Steve. Ward’s team was at a disadvantage right from the
start, they had two “marks” against them (pun
intended.) Mark, Laura’s husband AKA Niro had enough
energy to pull the entire team through the Iditarod, if need
be. He was wired! Not to mention I found out he was an
incredible skier. He was taught by an Olympian deport Swede,
but that’s a whole other story. And then there’s
Ward. Let’s just call him the “Animal.” This
guy takes no prisoners. He’s a one-man show in his
flaming flowered tights. You’ve got to appreciate a man
who is not afraid of his masculinity. His wife Jacky is a
gem, not only is she the epitome of a good sport, she’s
quite the athlete herself. She’s a pip-squeak of girl,
but packed with the dynamics of a Fourth of July sky
spectacular. I could see this easily becoming a real head to
head competition with the two teams. Time would tell. Kay, who I would consider one of my dearest friends, is
always so upbeat and cheery; woke with the words “ Gee,
we only have twenty-four hours to go.” Not a good sign!
Although I was confident Kay could ski this thing without a
moments hesitation. She’s been known to ski 90K in the
course of a few days. They don’t call her “K”
for nothing! I think her biggest concern was what tights to
wear with what hat! She’ll always keep them smiling
with her creative creations. She may have been a little
concerned about skiing in the evening, but didn’t
express much anxiety over it. Another true athlete. Ski conditions were less than favorable, although a _
inch of additional snow fell overnight. Temperature was
holding at approximately 27 degrees. The sky was cloudy,
which was good, since the sun would only cause some melting,
which could not be afforded. It was going to be tough. There
were approximately fifty teams, which meant about 300 people
skiing, of course not all at once, but with what little snow
cover there was, this could equate to owning a new pair of
rock skis, not by choice. The 10K loop would definitely take
a beating. A meeting was held to give instructions as to how the
race began, how the loops were counted, what gates you went
through, and how the race ended. Folks, we were priming up
for what seemed to be a twenty-four hour eternity. Me, I was
just wondering whether my wine was hot yet or not. Go teams
go! We all walked down to the start line. Skiers were taking
their stance, preparing for the first loop. The rest of us
stationed ourselves at the top of the hill to watch the take
off. A garbled microphoned voice gave instructions to pay
attention to what I thought they said was the
“fag” at the top of the hill. I was certain they
were referring to Ward in his flaming flowered tights, but
as I looked further I noticed a lady holding the American
Flag. OK, so my hearing is going. The race took off with an
incredibly inadequate gunshot, more like a pop, well not
even a pop, more like a blop, but nonetheless, the race was
on, and Kay was first person on Team Too! Go, Kay go! I didn’t know until later that Mark (Flu Man Mark)
Team One’s first skier, took a wrong turn on the
course, causing him a very poor time, which WhizsbyWard
would make up for. Ill-fated Mark needed rest badly, and it
wasn’t looking good for Team One right out of the
chute. Team Too seemed to be doing quite well, Kay’s
time was a worthy number, and things were looking great. Kay
was so pumped when she arrived back to the room. Although I
did hear her say, “wow, we only have twenty-three hours
to go.” She also was complaining of a pulled calf
muscle, which I immediately took charge of. After all, I am
there for support! She dried off, changed clothes, and off
we went slippered, I with hot spiced wine in hand, to visit
and shop in the lodge. We picked up a few things in the gift
shop for Dave Robb. It was his birthday and he was on Phil
VanValkenberg’s team, which was doing the race on
classical skis. Upon arriving at Phil’s abode, we
immediately went in to our rendition of “Happy
Birthday,” and bequeathed Dave with our tokened
trinkets. It is here that I’d like to make mention that Phil
has turtles (OK tortoises) sequestered in a glass aquarium.
I watched as these two little creatures climbed on top each
other, in hopes of climbing out (or at least that’s
what I’d like to think they were doing), of this
tortoise cell not shell (say that fast a couple of times.)
Turtle hell I tell you! So, for those of you who wish to
contribute to my campaign of “Setting the Tortoises
Free,” please send cake with embedded glasscutter, to
Phil’s tortoises, in care of Phil. I never even asked
their names, I feel ashamed. Harry volunteered to take pictures on the course, which
gave him free reign until Kay’s camera went on the
fritz. He then shoveled snow for what seemed like the entire
day! He came back limping, but still smiling that Harry
smile, and laughing the Harry laugh. That gets him the
“Golden Shovel” award. He not only shoveled, but
also marked the course with tape, so there was less
likelihood of wrong turns. Unfortunately it was too late for
Flu Man Mark to miss the mark, but that’s a good thing,
marking up the course. Well, for me the rest of the day went by quite quickly.
There was hot tubbing, and a very nice dinner in one of the
lodge restaurants. It was as if I was standing in the
backdrop watching the same repetition: departure of the dry
skier, return of the wet skier, departure of the dry skier,
return of the wet skier. I was amused by their continuity,
their words similar, their muscles reacting quite alike,
their sleep deprivation, their ability to stay focused on
the job at hand. Me, I was most thankful Tipeetoes showed up
bearing gifts of great magnitude. Although a six pack of
Guinness may not light the fires of most, ‘tis a
beautiful thing to lass with a thirst. Hey, somebody’s
got to do the drinking. After all, we are the support crew!
Thanks Tipeetoes! Before I knew it, it was time for my duty as a volunteer.
I knew my job was indoors, so I wasn’t frantic about
freezing to death in four hours, however; I was concerned
about whether I had been in detox long enough to rid my body
of the alcohol, which could pose a problem if I’m in
the cold. So, lightheartedly I proceeded to my obligation.
The warming tent. Well, it wasn’t very warm; in fact it
wasn’t even remotely warm. I was cold, for 3 hours and
forty-five minutes to be certain. The job itself was
extremely easy. I was to listen to the gal (Jacky) that was
standing outside (bless her heart) as she called out skier
bib numbers, and I recorded them on a chart and punched the
numbers into a small terminal. Piece of cake. Jacky
obviously could withstand the cold. I was so impressed by
her stamina, that I personally awarded her the “Atta
Girl Award.” There were few people in the tent, most
were skiers waiting for their team members to cross the line
so they could begin their loops. There was a gentleman who
was in charge of all the headlamps, so conversation with him
was nil because he was extremely busy. The worst part of the
whole ordeal was to be subjected to four hours of Austin
Powers’s movies. Now, I have a considerable tolerance
level for what most would consider whacked material, but
this stuff is beyond my recognition of humorous. I swear if
I ever hear “yeah baby” again my head will do a
360-degree spin and pea soup will spew from all my facial
orifices. That in itself is funnier than Austin Powers. Upon
my return to the room, I tried to thaw out under my sleeping
bag, and that folks was the initial stage of my walking
pneumonia. Hence, I have the time to be reflecting on this
event. We found out Madison Nordic Ski President Jimmy Vanden
Brook took a spill causing a knee injury worthy of 50
stitches. Ya know, it is quite possible that Jimmy was
destine to be with a crutch or cane before “The Big
Fifty” hit. Nothing like preparing for the future
Jimmy. We had heard he was helping somebody else when it
happened. Jimmy gets the “Good Samaritan Award.”
And, let it be known a rain check will be accepted for the
turkey dinner Jimmy, and the Superbowl will do just
fine. Well, my initial assumption of both teams coming head to
head with loops and time was correct. Team One was in
trouble; they at one point had two skiers on the course
simultaneously. There was talk of removing those loops and
possible disqualification. Team Too was plugging along. No
mishaps, but a possible tie with Team One, depending on the
whether their laps counted or not. So, it was down to the
last minutes. Kay was out skiing the last lap with Harry,
which we thought, would bring Team Too over the top. Not so.
It was with sadness Team Too, took a back seat by two laps.
So, with that, I guess it is most appropriate to say,
“he who laps last, laughs last.” And say that
quick several times! Phil VanValkenberg’s team placed, as well as Tom
Woody’s team. A most incredible weekend was treated
with a few brewskis at the lodge bar, which was topped by
the Packer’s win. It seemed as if we all went away
winners. As I sit here reflecting on that weekend’s events,
coughing, sneezing, and icky, light-fingered tissue tossing,
I realize with great pride this is a tough group. A group
who takes the challenge seriously, devotes all that is
necessary to get the job done, a group fatigued maybe
mentally, maybe muscularly, but still sporting a positive
attitude. A group of winners who walks away with second and
third place metals, a group I may join next year, only to
avoid the possibility of being subjected to Austin Powers
movies for four hours. After all, the body has its
limitations…like I said, “everything in
moderation!” _______________________________________________________________________________________________ Home, Telemark
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Waukesha, WI 53186
Ph: 262-549-6801 x30, Fax: 262-549-6825