With Greatest Husband wearing the tights, we leave today for the biggest ski race of the year – the American Birkebeiner race in Hayward, Wisconsin.
This is it. The defining race of the season. Fifty-two kilometers of lung-crushing hill climbs, swooping downhill runs, a final sprint across a frozen, wind-blown lake before heading up the town’s snow-covered and spectator-lined Main Street to the finish line.
Sound crazy? It is. And it’s totally, unexpectedly and wholeheartedly the most fun you’re ever going to have in February, in small-town Wisconsin, in the snow and cold, whether you’re on skis or not.
Me? Definitely NOT on skis, and my tights are more likely to be the undercover, wool variety designed to keep me as warm as possible while waiting for the moment when Greatest Husband crosses that finish line. As much as I love the spectator and skier scene in Hayward, I’m glad GH is a 1st wave skier who finishes early. It limits the number of hours I’d spend hanging out at the Main Street bakery padding my thighs with donuts and turnovers and hot chocolate.
So, eat your hearts out, Joey Cheek fans. I’ll be surrounded by five THOUSAND studly men in tights this weekend. And one of them comes home with me.