It's Hard to Sleep on Christmas Eve

Or, in this case, the eve of the Birkebeiner.

The American Birkebeiner is a 50K (that's 31 miles) cross-country ski marathon from Cable to Hayward, Wisconsin. Now in its 36th year, it is inspired by the 800 year-old Norwegian legend of Birkebeiner skiers saving the baby son of King Sverresson and Inga of Vartieg by carrying him to safety during the Norwegian civil war in the winter of 1206. The baby grew up to become King Haakon Haakonsson IV.

The first commemorative Birkebeiner race was held in Norway in 1932, and ever since Norwegian skiers carry a pack symbolizing the 18-month old Prince Haakon.

Five years ago I had never heard of the Birkebeiner, nor had I ever been on skis. But love can do strange things to a person, and I was smitten with a man who had skied the Birkie twice. So I bought a set of fancy cross-country skis way too fast for me and last year, inspired by the pre-race exuberance at race headquarters, I signed up for the Prince Haakon 8K.

If you have no expectations, if you are a nervous skier, if you just want to go out and have fun in the snow, the Prince Haakon race is wonderful. You get to climb "bitch hill," you get to ski across a frozen lake, you even get to cross the finish line on Main Street. The elite, serious skiers have long-gone by the time us slow-pokes get out there, and it's all viking helmets and fun.

8K is manageable, even for someone who's afraid of hills. At one point during last year's race, I felt inspired by an experienced skier with today's my birthday written on his shirt; he took off his skis and walked down a steep hill. I had been standing at the top of the hill, trying to decide what to do. "How do you know when to take off your skis?" I called down to him. "When you don't want to fall on your birthday," he called back.)

So this year, living in a northern town with many groomed ski trails 15 minutes from my house, I have been facing my fear of hills. I have been learning about wax. And tomorrow, I'm signed up to ski the Kortelopet, the 23K half-Birkie.

Granted, I'm in the very last wave, and it will probably take me more than three hours. It's supposed to be a warm day, and a fast trail (read between the lines - ICY), so who knows what will happen. But I'll have some of Mark's Super-Sinful Chocolate Chip Cookies in my pocket, a cheerful readiness for the peaks, and a Hail Mary ready for the zoom down.