Low snow creates a fast and furious approach to the Badger State Games

Editor's note: This is what happens when you combine a desperate drive for skiable snow and the driving style of 40-somethings of a certain gender. My thanks to Steve Smith for this Off the Couch contribution.

Back in the "old days" (think mid 90s for you youngsters), any event far afield required careful scrutiny of maps and a built in "get lost" buffer time.

We wouldn't have met one of Outagamie County's finest lawmen had we studied the Wisconsin Gazetteer, done the calculations and KNOWN that Appleton was one hour, 45 minutes.

Instead, on our way to Badger State Games, the car was going on an optimistic time/distance recommendation. The promise of snow made any estimate seem plausible, and clouded the reality that that the estimate was off by a good hour.

Panic ensued, such that the gas pedal became depressed to a dangerously aggressive degree.

Such is the state of affairs created by the snow-less winter in southern Wisconsin.

The Badger State Games Nordic race was to be a logical stepping stone in the training for the Birkebeiner.

Now it took on a dire necessity. Each of the skiers in the car HAD to ski the race. It would be the only extended effort prior to the big one.

"Sorry officer…how fast was I over," muttered our driver, alias "Butter. "Weweretryingtogettowausauandskiandtherehasntbeenanysnow.."

"License please"

Reports said two inches covered the trails in the Nine Mile County Forest. Most years, that pathetic number would be openly ridiculed.

Yet, here we were, about an hour from start time with a good 25 minutes to wait for a ticket. The promise - the NEED -- to ski, that tiny red ember, had all but faded to black.

And then came the miracle. "You have a clean record and I don't want to mess it up today," said the officer. "Good luck in the ski race…and drive slower."

We completed the trip, and lined up with a full five minutes to spare.

The race was fantastically hard and fast and schizophrenic, with snow-covered trails and even full white carpeting throughout the woods.

A general excitement filled the first hour as each turn on the 18k course revealed yet more snow and trails in near ideal condition.

More than 200 competitors seemed inspired to ski faster than I remember being able to go on two skinny skis.

But it was joyous!

The start of lap two brought the thrill of clanging cowbells and the "pleasure" of having a whole 'nother 18k to get through!

By this time in the race, I'd lost contact with my road buddies, AKA Jabo and Butter. Occasionally I'd regain contact with Butter, and I counted on an eventual crack that I would exploit. Everything was near perfect, until I crossed the finish line, which wasn't the finish line.

Again, I should have studied the map.

It showed a "bonus" 7k loop for all competitors, added to make it a solid 45k-ish race.

"Get back out there quick," the finish line gendarme encouraged after I stumbled around the paddock for a good minute or two.

And then the memories of "marathon skiing" came back in full force. The aching triceps, the thighs and calves that protest the slightest of elevation gains, the stumbles and near tumbles as technique swirled into its death spiral.

The 2k to go sign was greeted with a wary eye, but I soldiered on in the 35-degree temps and eventually came into sight of the finish line…the glorious finish line! Crossing it in a disputed two hours, 34 minutes left me exhausted, encouraged, disappointed…and ironically happy to be off the snow.

For the record, Jabo skied it clean in 2:23. Butter suffered the "phantom lap" symptom, which penalized him 15 minutes. (His time shall not be mentioned.) And Kevvy rolled through in 3:09-ish, confident in his own course map reading abilities.

Brent Wesolek, of Stoughton, took home the gold medal in the men's freestyle race, and Claire Luby, from St. Paul, poached a victory in the Badger state.

Check here for the full results.