American Birkebeiner

From Break a Leg ... to the BirkieTour

January 20, 2012 - the day before the BirkieTour:

Bruce and Marg just stopped by the Birkie Office for bag pick-up for the BirkieTour 2012. It was great to see them! We all wish them the best tomorrow as they ski from Hatchery to Telemark so that Bruce can get his American Birkebeiner Worldloppet Credit ... that he meant to get at the 2011 Birkie. Here's what happened at the 6K mark ...

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MS Sufferer, Bruce Wharrie, and Multiple Gold Worldloppet Master, Marg Hayes, share the story of their 2011 Birkie. Marg is the only woman who has completed all 20 Kangaroo Hoppets in Australia.

–Story told by Marg Hayes

Our week in the USA started like all our other Worldloppet race weeks but turned out to be very eventful and brought some unexpect­ed challenges – very cold conditions and broken bones. Read on for the gory details and the actions of wonderful people in adverse situations.

The cabin we were staying in, Ullr Haus, was located 50km north of Hayward near the start of the race. There were 12 of us staying there. It was a great opportunity to meet a wonderful group of Americans who certainly were welcoming to us.

Friday morning was a breakfast meeting of Worldloppet passport holders from around the world. There was a talk by a doctor researching MS, as this race is a substantial fundraiser for MS research, so Bruce was acknowledged with his achievements for keeping on skiing even though he is an MS sufferer. All of the multiple masters including us were recognized and our brightly coloured Australian Kangaroo Hoppet vests were a great visual ambassador for our country. It was an excellent opportunity to meet other Worldloppet skiers. An article had been written about us in one of the online ski magazines so some people knew of our goal to ski 14 Worldloppet races this season.  After bib pick-up we had time for a short ski to stretch the legs and see a little more of the course before waxing our skis for the expected extremely frigid temperatures.
    

On checking the thermometer when we woke on Saturday morning the temperature was an unbelievable -22 degrees Celsius!!! This was our coldest morning so far and over breakfast there were lots discussions about what clothes to wear in such extreme temperatures.  
    

The elite wave started at 8 am on perfect tracks. Bruce and our friend Karen started at 8:50 am in classic wave 5 and I started at 9:05 am in freestyle wave 4. The course is rolling hills. The locals had told me that the hills eased off after about half way but I must have missed that part as it seemed hilly nearly all the way until the last 4km where you ski across a frozen lake.   
    

Finally after 3hrs and 45 minutes I skated off the lake across the highway and onto Main Street in Hayward to ski three blocks with people cheering who had lined the streets despite the extreme temperatures. I was very, very pleased to finish and was keen to quickly get changed, however I just had to try and take a photo of a man with a totally frozen beard and long icicles hanging down from his chin. (Unfortunately the camera was frozen and wouldn’t work!)
  

Even after getting changed I was still bitterly cold so I went into the heated tent and grabbed a warm drink and soup which did the trick to warm me up a bit. A sheer mass of skiers provided the heat whilst I waited for Bruce and Karen to finish.  After an hour of so I went to the finish line to try and squeeze amongst the spectators to hopefully see Bruce and Karen finish.  
    

Then came the announcement over the loud speaker that you don’t want to hear, a request for me to go to the Birke office.  I instinctively knew something was wrong and so tentatively walked the two blocks, hoping for the best.  On entering I saw Bruce with his leg elevated.  I was so glad to see him and see that he was OK, even though he had broken his left ankle.
    

At about 6km into the race two skiers had fallen in front of him on a small hill.  They had moved their skis, so Bruce thought he had enough room to go around but at the last second one of the skiers lifted his ski to ankle height and tripped Bruce, thereby snapping his ankle.  Fortunately the ski patrol wasn’t too far away and so Bruce was skidoo-ed to a heated tent. At the Hayward hospital his ankle was immediately x-rayed and confirmed that he has a clean and in-place fracture of the fibula.  
    

A half-leg plastic cast was attached to immobilize his leg for the next four weeks. Bruce was discharged with skis in hand to hop to the exit door and leave. Patti, a wonderful caring lady from the Birkie office, came and picked Bruce up and fed him cookies and coffee until I was located.
    

On arriving back at the cabin we were truly looked after with genuine hospitality. Our hospitable cabin friends, in their haste to make Bruce a cup of tea, somehow managed to put salt in the cup instead of sugar so we all had a good laugh.  We had an extremely pleasant evening chatting with our new friends and swapping race stories. It was as if we had known them for years. 71-year-old Gerry was especially happy to finish the shorter Kortelopet as he was recovering from a hip replacement and this was his first race since the operation, so he had been concerned about falling.
    

The most pleasant thing about Bruce’s accident is all the wonderful helpful people we have met, many of whom we don’t even know their names.  
    

Bruce Wharrie emailed in September with this update:
  

 “We are coming back to Hayward in 2012 to attend the open-track Birke Tour on January 21, for which I can earn Worldloppet credit. I was successful in winning the MS Australia "Go for Gold" scholarship to do this!”
    

After the “broken leg” race in 2011, we headed straight to Poland. Marg completed both Skate & Classic races. I hobbled around on crutches, then to Engadin Ski Marathon in Switzerland, where I caught up with Marg during the race in Pontresina for a quick encouraging kiss and hug. Then to Lillehammer for the Norwegian Birkebiener ski race where Marg successfully completed the race whilst I watched the race "live" on Norwegian television.
    

I (still on crutches) and Marg headed to Ireland and tested cycling on the broken ankle (fibula).  Success, so I dispensed with the crutches and leg brace and cycled for 10 weeks around the entire coast of Ireland!  Then to Australia and straight into the snow, managing the Perisher Nordic Shelter for the entire season.   
    

Marg and I have skied nearly 90 days for the Australian winter and are now planning to go cycle touring until Christmas! My leg is now 90% healed, with some ankle pain requiring long earned rest (well just for a few days!)

And, today, January 20, 2012 ...

Bruce and Marg just stopped by the Birkie Office for bag pick-up for the BirkieTour 2012. It was great to see them! We all wish them the best tomorrow as they ski from Hatchery to Telemark so that Bruce can get his American Birkebeiner Worldloppet Credit.

Bjorn’s Final Birkie

By Shane Kitzman, Northfield News, MN

Skiing under the name of his fallen friend Bjorn Norgaard (above), Ben Cooper made sure Norgaard’s adventurous soul finished the 38th annual Birkebeiner. (Photo courtesy of Karin Norgaard)


"It just felt like wholeness out there. I was sad when it was over. With the snow coming down, it was perfect the way it ended up."
— Ben Cooper

When Bjorn Norgaard was a senior at Northfield High School, just days before his first Birkebeiner cross-country ski race, he gave his senior sermon at St. John's Lutheran Church. The adventurous senior told the entire parish that he and his friend Ben Cooper would be skiing in their first Birkebeiner.And no matter what would happen, no matter how difficult the 50-kilometer skate race would be and no matter who fell and needed a hand back up, Norgaard said, “We'll finish the race together.” The two steadfast friends did finish the race together some five years ago. They successfully completed the course from Cable, Wis., to Hayward, Wis. and enjoyed every minute of the famous cross-country ski event that draws more than 8,000 enthusiasts from around the world to northern Wisconsin every February for the past 38 years.

For Norgaard, who graduated from Northland College in May, the world's longest cross-country ski race became tradition. He had missed only one race since getting hooked five years ago.  Norgaard was inspired to take on the Birkie yet again by his and Cooper’s mutual best friend, and fellow NHS class of 2006 classmate, Joe Amerman.Amerman had started running marathons and believed that the three of them should be “enjoying the prime of their lives.”

But for Norgaard, the prime of his life was cut short. Norgaard was out skiing and training near Ashland, Wis., late at night on Feb. 19, one week before he would tackle his fifth Birkie, when authorities said a car struck him. He died at the age of 23. Just days after the passing of his best friend and only a handful of days before the 38th-annual Birkebeiner took place, Cooper realized what he needed to do. Norgaard’s funeral would be held on Friday, Feb. 25, but Cooper knew where he would be the very next day. And the plan wasn't even his from the start. It was Norgaard’s. “We'll finish the race together.”

Bjorn Norgaard’s father, Brett Norgaard, said it's the first time he has ever remembered Cooper not simply calling him Brett. “Cooper always calls me Brett,” Brett Norgaard explained, “But that day, he said 'Mr. Norgaard' and then stuttered. I said, 'Are you asking for my daughter's hand in marriage or what?' But he continued, 'Do you think it would be … uh, I want to … 'Could I ski in Bjorn’s place?' “We were delighted and set it up immediately,” Brett Norgaard said.

For the Birkie, and anything outdoors for that matter, was where Bjorn Norgaard’s heart resided. Mother Karin Norgaard could never quite keep up with the outdoorsman her eldest became. One morning, knowing her son would be late for school, she roused him out of bed. But he wasn't there. Karin Norgaard’s frantic searching finally located him sleeping, where else, but outside. He camped out on the driveway of all places, lying on his back to get an intimate view of the night sky. “'Mom, when I came home last night, the stars were so beautiful that I just wanted to stay out here,'” Karin Norgaard recalled him saying. The outdoors continued to reign supreme for Bjorn Norgaard after getting his cap and gown. He graduated from Northland College on May 31, and on June 1, Bjorn Norgaard was aboard a flight to Alaska to be a fly fishing guide for the summer.

So when Bjorn Norgaard spent this past New Year's Eve in Northfield, skiing nearly 40 kilometers after dusk in Carleton College's Cowling Arboretum with Cooper, it was the right way to bring in the New Year. “A lot of people don't understand training at night, but the snow is faster and there are no people,” Cooper said. “You get that feeling of being in touch with the outdoors. The stars are shining and you can see the trail perfectly. We skied a marathon that night. It was the best New Year's of my life.” When Feb. 26 rolled around and Cooper found himself on the Birkebeiner starting line, about to make his trek from Cable to Hayward, the kind folks at the Birkebeiner made sure he felt at home. Brett Norgaard crafted a letter that was read at start of the race.

“Bjorn Erik Norgaard was killed last Saturday night skiing back to Ashland after the Book Across the Bay Race,” the announcer read over the starting line's PA system. “He was a 2010 graduate of Northland College and 23 years old. He was doing what he loved 'on the road less traveled' and had been training intensely for his fifth Birkie. He said he was going to break the three-hour mark without a doubt this year. Taking his place today is his dear friend Ben Cooper who is skiing in his second Birkie. Bjorn was a man of virtue and sought epic adventure. Birkebeiners — I salute you! Godspeed Ben and Bjorn!”

The race also marked a first for Cooper. As he started out on the first couple meters of the 50-kilometer marathon, he realized it was the first time in his cross-country skiing career that he had strapped on his skis without Bjorn Norgaard beside him. Cooper admitted that at about the 30-kilometer mark, he had been making good time. Yet as he began nearing the home stretch, Bjorn Norgaard made sure Cooper's time wouldn't beat his. Snow started to fall. The fresh powder made it much harder for Cooper to keep up with his previous pace. And that was just fine with him. For at 3 hours, 14 minutes and 1.7 seconds, Bjorn Norgaard officially finished the 2011 Birkebeiner on the skis of his longtime friend. The time was just a mere four minutes slower than the mark Bjorn Norgaard recorded in 2010. But finishing with a fast time wasn't Cooper's intention at all. “It just felt like wholeness out there,” Cooper said. “I was sad when it was over. With the snow coming down, it was perfect the way it ended up.” The slower track just meant he could spend a little more one-on-one time with his fallen friend.

First Birkie After Dreaming About it for 33 Years
1974 - 2009

In 1974 cross-country skiing had taken hold in the United States, and as a high school senior in Marshall, Wisconsin, I wanted to try it. I didn’t know a soul who did it—everyone I knew was into snowmobiling—but that didn’t stop me from purchasing some beautiful wooden Asnes touring skis, a pair of boots, bamboo poles with baskets big enough to take to market, a mysterious assortment of waxes, and a book on what to do with it all.

A new event was being held up north in Wisconsin, something to do with cross-country skiing called the American Birkebeiner. It sounded thrilling: lots of people, including women, skiing for miles and miles (officially measured in the exotic term “kilometers”) through the Chequamegon Forest. Athletes did it, but “citizens” could, too, and I wanted to be part of it.

But first I had to learn how to ski. I figured out what wax to use and how to apply it as best I could, put my skis on, and stepped out into the snow. I cautiously slid my feet forward, pushing off with my poles, hanging on to them with all my might. It was … hard! But it was also fun and empowering to move smoothly through the snow instead of trudging. I kept at it, not realizing the difference between skiing on an expanse of untouched snow and a groomed trail. My main impression of that first experience was disillusionment with how much effort it took.

I knew that as I skied I looked nothing like the pictures I saw in my book, but I didn’t know how to improve without taking lessons. Now it seems crazy, but because I didn’t have a buddy to take a lesson with, I never did. Birkie fever flickered around in my head as an impossible dream, but my interest in cross-country skiing endured.

Over the years I usually got out my skis at least once or twice each winter, sometimes more as people I knew started giving it a try. Once in a while my parents left their snowmobiles at home and joined me. One year I talked my husband and young children into skiing, but it just wasn’t their thing.

I got a little better at it, and though I didn’t speed down the trails, I exalted in the feeling of gliding through the winter woods and fields under my own power, traveling farther and faster than I could on foot. By the time my children were grown, I counted on time for myself each winter exploring nearby trails on my skis.

Then along came some major life changes, including divorce and a new marriage. In 2007 my husband, Terry, and I visited his son, Cully Shelton, in Cable during Birkie weekend, bringing along our brand-new, waxless, classic style skis. I was thrilled to finally be on my way to see the excitement of race weekend for myself, though we’d heard the Birkebeiner might not be held because of the warm weather and disappearing snow.

On our way to Cable, we stopped in Hayward, amazed to see a street closed and covered with snow, lined with excited spectators wearing every color of outdoor wear, and quite a few pairs of skis leaning against buildings and racks all along the sidewalks. We were fascinated to discover the sprints taking place on Main Street, with volunteers methodically shoveling snow back into the well-worn turns on the end of the course. I looked around at the cheering crowds, savoring standing among an entire community of cross-country ski junkies.

Cully had arranged for us to help hand out Birkebeiner and Kortelopet packets that night at Telemark. We stood behind tables lined with row after row of hundreds of bibs arranged by wave color. I didn’t exactly know what a wave was, but I did understand which bibs were going to the elite skiers, and I watched them with awe as they stopped by—tense, excited, casual—every kind of demeanor. The huge room was filled with people talking about whether the race could be held, and at some point the decision was made to shorten the course. Despite the overall disappointment with the weather conditions, I especially had fun talking to the men and women of all shapes, sizes, and ages who were going to ski their first Birkie. The idea of skiing it myself, buried but percolating somewhere in my head all these years, planted it firmly where I could not ignore it … if they could, I could!

In 2008 Terry and I came back for Birkie weekend, and the perfect weather conditions swept away any doubts we had about trying the race for ourselves. As excited spectators, enjoying the pristine and plentiful snow, we rushed from the power line food station to the one on OO, and back again, catching glimpses of every level of skier, as we laughed and clapped to the encouraging noise of bells and shouting and music. We longed to be on the trail ourselves, and signed up for the 2009 American Birkebeiner when we got home to Madison.

In the fall, we added hiking on the weekends to our fitness routine as we eagerly waited for snow so we could start skiing. We were grateful when plentiful snow fell but then stunned to realize that it was one thing to be fit but something completely different to be conditioned to ski for miles. We stepped up our efforts, and dedicated every weekend to going someplace different to ski. What a gift we gave to ourselves as we discovered the beautiful trails in nearby state parks and forests.

Setbacks plagued us, as they do everyone: blisters, illness and work commitments interfered with our plans. As Birkie weekend drew closer, and the farthest we had ever skied was less than 20 miles, I worried that we were being unrealistic in our goal. We were signed up for the 42-kilometer Hayward Lions Club Pre-Birkie, and decided to make our decision after skiing that.

We slogged over the finish line in the melting snow (with tremendous gratitude to the volunteers remaining patiently on the course for the stragglers like us) and, even though we were exhausted, we knew we’d be able to dig deep again to finish the Birkie.

I told everyone I would be happy to make it past the cutoff time at the last food station and be allowed to finish the race, but my secret goal was to finish under seven hours. And we did! Six hours and 44 minutes, to be exact, with Cully waiting at the end to help us get out of our skis and into the tent … we were both more depleted than we ever could have imagined and would probably have just fallen down and laid there without him!

Though our unschooled technique led to a very long time on the trail, I am still so proud and happy to think of finishing. I also get a lump in my throat when I reflect on what it takes for the community to help all types of skiers—novice, citizen, elite—participate in the American Birkebeiner, and that this happens in Wisconsin, which I’m proud to call home. There is nothing like it, and we will be back again.