The Snow Can Melt Now

The 2025 Birkebeiner Nordic Ski Race is over, so now the snow can melt. It was nearly 50 degrees today and water is dripping everywhere outside. Coming off the roof it sounds like an open faucet. I didn’t even bring my skis down from the attic (many reasons) this winter. That didn’t keep me from my own experience with the Birkie. 

Volunteers help put up this bridge over our main highway. It’s covered with snow and skiers finish the race up Hayward’s Main Street.

The last few years I have signed up to work the food tent, serving hot soup to tired, cold skiers. I also would get very chilled after hours standing on frozen ground in a breezy tent. This year I chose a volunteer opportunity inside a heated building – the Lost and Found department. 

When 11,000 skiers and all their people come into town for this weekend of skiing, lots of stuff gets lost. Zippers don’t get closed and things fall out of backpacks. People pick up something that looks just like theirs, only it isn’t. It gets hot out there skiing and off comes the jacket onto the ground. I’ve heard many variations of these stories in the last couple of days. I got a whole different view of what goes on during a major sporting event this year. It was quite interesting. 

On Friday I stopped by my station to orient to my job. I met the couple in charge, my new friends Barb and Morris. Our workplace was a large room filled with banquet tables and a few folding chairs. Nothing had arrived yet. By Saturday afternoon the tables were filled with jackets, sweaters, broken ski poles, hats, and gloves. I was shocked. Didn’t people need their coats? I was told that most of the items would not be reclaimed. Other garments that did get claimed were ones that show up year after year. That was surprising, and led to my first “behind the scenes” revelation. 

The Friday and Saturday races start early in the morning and it is normally cold. Everyone starts out quite bundled up. But, no one stays cold very long. Nordic skiing is not just slipping down some slopes and catching a ride up on a lift. It’s skiing up and down hilly terrain over long distances. It creates heat. So, off come the outer layers of clothing. They are usually discarded, picked up by crews of volunteers and transported to Lost and Found. Many skiers get a jacket at a thrift store and don’t care if they ever see it again. Others come looking for their “lucky” jacket and use it year after year. 

Only a few of the discarded/lost jackets, shirts and sweaters

The Birkie Association keeps the lost items for one month before donating them back to a thrift store. But initially they are all laid out on the tables where people can search for them. The pockets are searched to remove food or valuables. Before all this clothing is sent to storage it is catalogued. A list is attached to each bag of clothing detailing what is in it. 

Breaking a pole is a disaster. You really can’t ski the Birkie without them

Broken ski poles are another common item in Lost and Found. Volunteers at the aide stations tag the broken poles with the bib number of the skier. Believe it or not, skiers want their broken poles back for the parts that come off them. Hand straps can cost $50 to $80. The baskets on the tips can be put on new poles. Skiers usually get a loaner pole at an aide station to finish the race. They return that when they pick up their broken pole. 

So, what did I actually do while there? I folded and put items on the tables in their categories. Having done that, I knew what was there and helped people find what they were looking for. I greeted people and answered questions. I called people to let them know their item had been found. I sympathized with people who had lost their car keys, their IPhone, their new prescription glasses, their expensive gloves. I talked with Barb and Morris and found out they were retiring from that job after 13 years. Lost and Found certainly isn’t the most exciting part of the Birkie, but it is a necessary part. Working there gave me a window into volunteer roles that I hadn’t even thought of before.

At the volunteer lunch after the event finished I talked with another volunteer who had an unusual opportunity. His sole job was to take care of one of the winners of the elite group. He accompanied the third place winner through the process of signing paperwork and getting his recognition recorded. That sounded more exciting. Maybe next year?

So there is a lot to learn about this event. I learn at least one new thing every February when Birkie Fever hits our small town. It takes around 4,500 volunteers from several counties around us to put on this event. I am proud to be one of them, even if it’s just in Lost and Found. This year I didn’t get cold, just sayin’…

The Strangeness of Being Cold

There is more to feeling cold than just the physical sensation.

I know it’s largely physical, dependent upon location. I rarely feel cold in Florida. This morning we stood outside watching the Airstream being backed into place. It was only about an hour total, but I’ve not been warm since.

There is the mental side of it. I’ve been reading a lot lately, stories of young people feeling that their lives could just as well be ended, because of their physical misery. There are so many of those stories. And there is also my daughter’s story with heavy doses of despair and anxiety. And my other daughter’s story of overwhelming demands, confusion and loneliness. And there is being in Seattle. All these are part of feeling cold, I think.

wp-1482788166367.jpgI read until my eyes were heavy and there was no need to keep them open so I went to lie down. I am in a house which I am sure is heated adequately, yet I am cold, dressed in two layers on my legs, two layers and a jacket on top. A wool blanket is over me as I wait for it to trap the heat and make me feel warm, but it doesn’t happen. Even the bed and blankets I’m lying on give the lingering sensation of cool, like an unwanted draft. It’s not painful or intolerable. It’s nagging.

Every surface around me is waiting to grab some of my energy, especially the floor. I feel it through my socks, my shoes. The chairs feel cold, and oh, the leather car seat is the worst. When I back up to the heater on the wall, it heats one small portion of me but makes all the other portions more aware of their chill. It’s hard to even think about undressing at night. I touch my face with icy fingers and feel the effect of it all the way down to my feet.

It is not the actual temperature either. Outside, everything is the color of cold. Cold looks smoky blue, five shades of foggy grey, and the darkness of being wet. I want to move, to work up some heat, to exercise (not like the shirtless runner I saw yesterday, but a little sweat would be nice).

I am hoping this is a temporary phenomenon. I am cold, just sayin’…