CARRABASSETT VALLEY – It took 58-year-old snowshoe specialist Tim Coffin less than 10 minutes to wrap up his athletic obligations during the opening day of competition at the Maine Special Olympics Winter Games on Monday.

A quick 25-meter jaunt, a brief powwow with some teammates wearing the neon-green jackets that identified them as members of the Madison Bullfrogs, then a more strenuous 50-meter time trial, and Coffin was done for the day.

Or maybe not.

There were, Coffin said, a couple more items on his Special Olympics itinerary.

“We’re gonna do the snowmobile thing. That’s fun,” he said, referring to the free rides offered to athletes as a perk of the games. And with a conspiratorial grin, Coffin admitted that even after a snowmobile ride, things would get better.

“We’ve got the big dance tonight. Woooooooo!” he said, getting revved up at the mere thought of the evening’s festivities.

Ah. The dance.

In all, 493 athletes from 73 communities headed to Sugarloaf/USA for the 31st edition of the Maine Winter games, which conclude Tuesday. The Special Olympics are a year-round athletic training and competition program for people of all ages with mental retardation.

At Monday’s events, many athletes readily admitted that the athletic competition was just a precursor to the real, serious business of having fun.

“That’s the way it works,” Coffin said, sharing a wide, toothless grin and pointing out that in order to earn the right to boogie down, he first had to put in his time at the snowshoe venue. “You’ve just got to do it.”

Or do you?

As it turns out, Coffin’s equation doesn’t always work out. Just ask Angela Pooler.

Pooler, a coach for Bangor-based MERT Enterprises, brought six Olympians to the games. But she didn’t send six Olympians into action Monday morning.

“We had one athlete who was going to compete, but she said, ‘Oh … I just want to go to the dance,”‘ Pooler said with a chuckle before admitting that the plan had some merit. “Me, too.”

Another of her athletes, Chris Oster, had run his last race of the day before 9 a.m. As he puffed and panted in recovery, Oster was reminded that he might not have enough energy left for the evening’s big event.

“Oh, I’ll dance,” he said, coining the phrase of the day.

While athletic competition is the cornerstone of the Special Olympics, nobody here will tell you that winning medals is the most important thing. There is, you find out quickly, a sense of balance surrounding the whole affair.

Today, we may ski. Tomorrow, we might skate, or snowshoe, or sip hot chocolate and cheer our friends.

But tonight?

Tonight, we dance. And that’s not negotiable.

Smoking from the start

For Augusta’s Kimberly Moore, the day’s dancing couldn’t begin soon enough.

Moore came to the Special Olympics with her team.

“It’s Somerset Team Outreach,” she said. “We’re the Ducks. Quack! Quack! Quack!”

When Moore, a feisty 241/2-year-old from Augusta, reached the starting line for her first snowshoeing race of the day, she found out that there would be a bit of a delay: A fellow competitor was having a hard time getting outfitted in her own aluminum-framed racing shoes.

Moore didn’t mind a bit: She danced.

Make that: She danced to her mind’s music, eyes closed, head rocked back, swaying back and forth while keeping her snowshoed feet behind the starting line.

When it came time to race, she did OK, too, winning big and celebrating by doffing her winter hat and twirling it over her head.

“I smoked ’em,” said Moore, who pointed out that when it really came down to it, she should have smoked ’em. She won two gold medals a year ago, after all.

And what about those people on the side of the course who suggested that Moore might be a pretty good racer?

“I am good,” she said, leaving no room for debate.

But just because the reigning snowshoe queen is serious about her sport, it doesn’t mean that she’s not above kicking up her heels a bit.

“Tonight, we’re gonna bump and grind,” she said before her mother quickly chimed in that there would be no bumping or grinding allowed.

For 18-year-old Scott Pleasant of Levant, Monday afternoon’s races provided enough bumps for his liking.

Pleasant, a self-described “character” who competes for the 35-member OHI team, encountered a bit of trouble in his first race of the day, but he didn’t let it bother him much.

More than halfway through the 25-meter snowshoe race, Pleasant’s day became … less pleasant.

He blew out a snowshoe – and the still-attached winter boot – and finished the race in one stocking foot.

“I just kept on going,” he said, explaining that there really wasn’t much option. A guy can’t just quit in the middle of a race, you know.

The experience did give Pleasant something to focus on for his subsequent 50-meter time trial.

“Tight,” he said.

That’s tight as in shoelaces, which he figured would have prevented his earlier miscue.

After handily winning his 50-meter race (and keeping both snowshoes attached to his feet), he allowed for the first time that he might have been slowed a bit by his early accident.

“That was a little better,” he said. “I just couldn’t run on one foot.”

Lighting the torch

For Fort Kent’s Erika Thiele, Monday’s opening ceremonies were a bit more special than normal – even for a seasoned vet who has competed in the Special Olympics World Games.

That’s because on Sunday night, she and her family found out that she’d been chosen to light the torch.

“I cried a little bit,” the 30-year-old Thiele said. “I was kind of surprised.”

Thiele was excited about the opportunity, but admitted she was a bit nervous when she found out she’d have to ski downhill – on her cross-country skis – to get to the torch after her introduction.

“I wasn’t up to that point yet,” she said.

Thiele didn’t show it, as she schussed her way to a stop, got out of her skis, and got the games off to an official start.

All around the Olympic Village, coaches spoke warily about Tuesday’s weather forecast, but athletes were content to enjoy the windless sunshine of the first day.

“I’m glad this year it’s not so cold,” said 19-year-old Jen Gilbert of Bangor. “Last year it was freezing.”

On Monday, it was anything but. It was so mild, in fact, that Thiele was able to field her post-ceremonies interview requests in relative comfort. She, too, pointed out that she had plans for Monday night.

All she wanted was one song from the band.

“I like Billy Ray Cyrus,” she said with a smile. “Achy Breaky Heart.”

Everyone, of course, has a favorite.

Tim Coffin has a few. The Madison Bullfrog loves to dance, so his favorite kind of music is disco. His favorite artist?

“Elvis Presley. Love Me Tenderly,” he said, adding a syllable but nailing the sentiment.

But Coffin is quick to point out that there’s more to a dance than music.

“I like all the women,” he tells everyone who will listen.

“Do you like all the women, too?”