WINTER OLYMPICS : Men’s 15K Cross-Country : It Takes Stamina to Watch This Sport

Watching a cross-country ski race is not a walk in the park.

It’s a walk in the woods. Sometimes, it’s a run in the woods. Some other times, it’s a fall in the woods.

For intense excitement, it ranks right up there with yacht racing or croquet. Still, it is not without charm, particularly on a mild, sunny day in the Canadian Rockies. What could be a prettier site for a sporting event?

There is a crowd of 2,000 or so this bright Friday morning as we mush through the sugary snow into the “stadium” at the Canmore Nordic Center--the Canadians spell it Centre--just into the mountains about 70 miles west of Calgary. A lot of the folks are sons of Norway. See all the Norwegian flags?

There is supposed to be royalty here today. King Carl Gustaf of Sweden is here, and so is Prince Harald of Norway. You know how the Swedes and Norwegians get along. Do you suppose they’ll be talking to each other?

Notice that the stadium isn’t a stadium the way the Coliseum is a stadium. In the middle we have the start-finish area. On one side are some bleachers. On the other, terraced into a hillside, are waist-high rails. From there you can stand and watch.

Friday’s race was the men’s 15-kilometer test--that’s 9.3 miles--skied in the classical style, which means slide and glide, no “skating” allowed. You’ll remember that Bill Koch, the greatest cross-country racer the United States has ever had, revolutionized the sport with his skating style a decade ago. That style is allowed in some races, now, strictly forbidden in others.

Bjorger Pettersen, the Canadian chief of competition, has been touting this as a wide-open race, one without a favorite. “You can take your starting list, close your eyes and run your pencil over it,” he said. “Wherever you stop, there’s your winner.”

Pettersen is a funster. There may be no clear favorite, but the Soviets have had the hot setup in cross-country skiing since they got here, and the Norwegians, Swedes and Finns are no slouches, either.

You’ve heard, of course, that the Canadian coach, an American named Marty Hall, has stirred up all kinds of trouble by sort of suggesting that he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the Soviets were indulging in illegal blood doping. A lot of people are ticked at Marty these days.

The Americans? Well, Bill Koch isn’t skiing anymore, so their chances aren’t real good. They’re kind of hoping to get one of their four skiers in the top 30. Dan Simoneau is the big U.S. hope. He’s from Bend, Ore.

They start at 30-second intervals, which is nice and orderly for this 90-skier field, but wouldn’t it be fun to see a pack start sometime in one of these races?

The first skier was a Soviet. He doesn’t get to stay on flat ground long before he starts uphill. The announcer says the course has 617 meters of total climb--that’s more than 2,000 feet.

Joe Galanes is the first American to start, going off 16th, and Simoneau is 24th.

They were lucky to start early because with the number of skiers and the warm sunshine the course would likely break up for the later guys. The sun can cause problems with the waxing, too, but the skiers will have to live with that. This race is too short for them to stop and rewax.

There goes Simoneau off the line. Let’s head for the woods and try to catch Simoneau out on the course.

Say, this hill is steep. The skiers are going up it lots faster than we are. We’ll have to take a short cut and try to head them off. There, take that trail through the woods. If we hurry, we can catch them on that big downhill bend.

Let’s see, where are we now? Let’s check our map. It’s a short downhill, then a long, switchback upgrade. OK, we should be here, at the 11.6-kilometer mark. Let’s see, we’re about 30 minutes into the race, so the first guys should be coming past any minute.

Yep, there’s the No. 1 Soviet. Apparently, nobody has passed him.

Next comes a Norwegian. Listen to The crowd sounds like they’re all yelling, “Hi ya! Hi ya!”

Galanes is next, having lost a lot of time. And then Simoneau, only a minute behind.

The scoreboard has a new leader every couple of minutes. And some of these guys went out late. They must have waxed just right.

The announcer spots a fast Soviet, Mikhail Deviatiarov, who is motoring right along. He’s knocked the Norwegian, Pal Mikkelsplass, out of the lead.

When the last skier comes in, the scoreboard reads Deviatiarov, Mikkelsplass and another of the Soviet skiers, Vladimir Smirnov. That gives the Russians the gold and bronze, and Norway the silver.

Then there’s Simoneau, who finished 29th, which calls for a press conference.

The subject turns to blood doping. Simoneau says that there might well be some going on, that Marty Hall is “the only guy with hair enough” to bring it up, that he’s in favor of testing, provided somebody can find a way to test for it, but, since nobody has proved anything, the sport is suffering and the Soviet victories here have been unfairly tainted.

“The Russians come out firing in the first races, that’s their pattern,” he says. “They did it in Sarajevo, too, and then the Norwegians and Swedes and Finns came on. I feel sorry for them. All the talk about blood doping detracts from their victories.

“Unless somebody can prove something, we shouldn’t be talking about it. If you can win on this course, you’ve accomplished something. This is a very tough course. It might be the toughest course I’ve ever raced. It put some people on their knees.

“It’s a course of long, hard climbs. It’s rewarding when it’s done, but it’s so long and so steep when you’re on it. I thought I was better than this, but maybe on another day. I skied well and my skis were good. I just didn’t do as well as I wanted.”

Heck, everyone can relate to that, right? All of which means it’s time to go back to town and catch the hockey game. Gosh, these mountains sure are pretty.