Race before you're ready.

Like traveling in the mountains, beginners rush in when it's dangerous and hesitate when it's not. Racing is like the latter.

The desire to be ready creates unnecessary procrastination. If the first race is delayed, the lessons to learn are postponed. Time is wasted, and progression slows. If racing is put off, so is an ideal performance.

Learn by doing.

"No," you might think. "I'll get really fit, and then I'll race."

Fitness is part of it, but not all of it. Racing must be practiced. A smart racer will be able to perform at a higher level than someone who focuses only on fitness. The better racer will win.

Don't wait until you're in top shape before your first race. That only increases nerves by creating an expectation. And then it increases regret when execution is poor. Instead, race when the stakes are low, when you're happy to go slow, and likely to learn something. It'll pay off in better racing down the road.

Ignore your nerves.

Here's how:

Your performance is irrelevant. Without the appropriate gear and experience, you won't be able to evaluate your true potential.

You have no competition. The only true competitor anyone has is their Best Self. And your Best Self always skips your first race.

Skimo is weird and geeky for everyone. We're wearing skinsuits after all. That's why bro-brahs are deathly afraid of it.

You don't need fancy gear. Using backcountry ski gear in an early race is totally normal. Some choose to race on it indefinitely.

Pain is acceptable. But how hard you go is entirely up to you. Now that you know that absolute performance and relative standings are misleading, you can focus on more important things.

Can horrible be hella-fun?

After a race in Kimberley, a few of us were near the finish line when a first-timer came tumbling across. He was wearing full Gore-Tex, soaked in sweat, and hunched over his poles.

Gasping, he said, "That was horrible!" And everyone laughed. It was a horrible that we all knew. And loved.

Will you love it too? After your race, answer these questions:

1. Do I want to do more of this?
   1. On the ascents, you'll be at what the geeks call "threshold" intensity. It's painful, but just below a muscle-burning pain.
   2. On the descents—with pre-fatigued legs and the eccentric loading—you won't ski as well as you're used to, and the intensity will be at that burning level.
   3. In transitions, you can catch your breath, but only while executing a technical sequence as fast as possible.
   4. It won't get easier. As Greg Lemond says, "Racing doesn't get easier. It just gets faster." 
2. If so, how much?
   1. Is it a challenge that you enjoy? In the moment, "enjoy" is probably the wrong word. But is it a challenge that you enjoy the next day? (aka. "Type 2" fun)
   2. Do you want to get serious and rabbit-hole on performance? Or is recreational racing enough? (It makes you a faster backcountry skier.)

Either way, it'll be worth it.

Before my first skimo race, I had never raced in anything, but I had done a lot of alpine climbing. I was used to physical challenges, but spread out over many high-stress hours.

After my first race, I was amazed. I had never gone that hard for that long. I was shocked at the intensity and the depth of the fatigue. It felt like a big alpine day, but compressed into a few hours.

For me, it was "fun" enough to do more of. Six seasons later, it was still just as painful, but no longer debilitating. As racers get used to the intensity, they can both move and recover faster.

Any time is the perfect time.

Racing is like marriage or having kids: no one is ever fully ready. And if there is never a perfect time, then any time is the perfect time. The only way to get ready to race is to race a lot.

Your first race reflects your interest, not your potential. Just do it.