American Birkebeiner

My husband David had to miss one of the big ski races last year due to a coaching commitment. No, he wasn't coaching junior skiers in their quest for Olympic glory. He was coaching me through the labor and delivery of our first child. Karl James Nelson was born January 30th, 2009, after 21 hours of labor.

A few weeks later, I was listening to streaming coverage of the Birkebeiner on my computer. I knew Karl wasn't ready to go three plus hours without nursing, and I certainly wasn't ready to carry him for 54km, so I had stayed home. I burst into tears when I heard the cannon blast. I had skied every Birkie since my 18th birthday 12 years before. I didn't just miss the challenge and exhilaration of the race, but also the camaraderie of hundreds of wonderful ski friends, some of whom I only see at the Birkie. “Next year, we'll both be there!” I promised my sleeping baby.

Some friends gave Karl a book that tells the incredible story of how two Birkebeiners saved Prince Håkon from the Baglers. I was struck by Inga's courage, entrusting her beloved son to the men without knowing if she would see him again. It would be an honor to reenact this important chapter of our Nordic heritage, and an opportunity to share our passion for skiing with Karl before he is even old enough for the Barnebirkie. I thoroughly enjoy grueling events, like skiing a 90 km classic race and running over 100 miles in a day, so I know I'll love striding each Birkie hill on wooden skis. I eagerly anticipate the chance to help all the Birkie skiers finish with smiles on their faces, and to keep my promise to our “little prince!”