For the love of skiing

I love to ski. This is fairly obvious, I think, but sometimes I get so wrapped up in the training and the racing and the results that I forget the big picture of how much I love to ski. The past couple years I've elevated cross country skiing above alpine or telemark, and this has arguably led me to being a faster racer. Being hypercompetitive, I need to see how fast I can possibly be, and I love the racing side of skiing as much as I love skiing. Cross country ski racing defines a large part of who I am at this point of my life.

After Saturday's race, I was feeling a little bummed out, despite not having had a bad race. I was completely wrapped up in my own little world of analyzing how to make those skis work, what to do about this sort of situation in the future, how my body performed, how to make it recover faster, all the little details that matter after a ski race. And then my ski buddy Randy showed up, and we skied all day Sunday, and I realized how much of the big picture I miss by just racing. Sure, we were training, but it was in complete contrast to the focus that most training has at this point. We were goofing around, telling jokes, planning trips, and most importantly, just enjoying the fact that we were on skis sliding over snow. It was great to ski with a non-racer, someone removed from the intensity of it all, who skis because he loves to ski and be in shape and still can outski his 12-year-old kid.

Having that sort of contrast in your life is a good thing, I think. For me to become the fastest ski racer I can, I have to observe all the details, I have to be focused in my workouts, I have to analyze races to learn from mistakes. But for me to become the best person that I can, I have to remember to have fun on my skis, and to share this joy with those around me. And I wouldn't be surprised if that helps the racing, too.

Classic race

In brief: I have a pair of klister skis that I'm really, really, really trying to make work as powder skis. This experiment is not so successful, and I had very limited kick. But my doublepoling was on fire!

The longer version: I'm frustrated with those skis. They'll make a good klister ski, and I know that early season races is where you iron out these kinks, but I love that classic striding motion, and I get upset when I can't use it in a race. Listen to those thousand little violins playing for me. It was a good race. I think I can say that. I fought hard, I made do with my double poling, and I think the result was somewhere near where last season ended. That isn't a bad way to start the season. The course was flat, with one hill that they called the wall, so the double-pole and run technique wasn't nearly as disastrous as it would have been on a course like, say, Pineland, or Presque Isle.

So now I'm back in Boston. There is no snow here. Its not even cold here. The potential for being depressed is fairly high, except that I know the county has snow, so the first ECs are on, and I'm sure that Great Glen will do something to hold those sprints. No more 'cross for this girl, I'm a skier now =). A rollerskier...

The speed is there. Unfortunately, so is the spazz.

Cooooold this morning. Frosty breath on my jacket, well under zero at 8:30 when I showed up to pick up my bib. I like to give my lungs at least 45 minutes to get used to this sort of abuse when its this cold, run through all the paces, so a nice long warmup was in order. Rob showed up with my skis (yes, I had Toko wax for me), and they were faster than LF6, which is what I'd been skiing around on. Hard to have fast skis on snow this squeaky. The sun finally came up over the trees, making the air more bearable. I started fourth from last, behind some J2s from Craftsbury. Not a bad place to start from, as my skis were faster on snow that had been skied over.

The beeping starts, and I jump out. Smooth like a ninja, that was the goal. Second pole plant and my right pole strap un-velcroes itself. I managed to not let go of the pole, and tried to get into the downhill fast enough to have momentum to put the strap back on. Got it on, concentrating on not freaking out. At the bottom of the hill I realized I had to start my V2 a lot sooner than I had in my warmup- not a good sign. I caught up to the first Craftsbury girl on the short steep uphill, and she blocked me admirably. I almost had to ski over her before she'd move, but it still feels good to pass someone by 15 seconds in a 2 minute race. Slight downhill, I tucked here even though I probably should have used some V2-alt. Hit the uphill, which had been V2able yesterday, today it was a solid V1, but I'd watched Laura Valaas do that so clearly it was ok. Crested the steeper part and switched to a strong V2, remembering to compress and use my legs and all that. The burn had started, it wasn't pleasant, but its a sprint, so its supposed to hurt. Flattened out into the finish, had to fight to stay V2, still driving, always driving, passed the other Craftsbury girl before the finish lanes. Threw my foot in a halfhearted manner, and had to lie on the snow to catch my breath. Burning lungs, but its supposed to be that way--sprint race in the cold.

Bad luck with the pole strap, I have no idea how to determine how much time I lost by not being able to push the downhill, but I was only out of the heats by about 6 seconds (I'll know for sure what the time was when they publish the results). Still a solid result, not what I'd hoped for, but that is sprint racing. I knew going into this that to make the heats it would have to flow perfectly, and it was far from it. The speed is there, no doubt, but the spazz is still overpowering it.

Thanks Freddy B for the pictures.

Apprehension. Confidence. Fear. Excitement. Doubt. Mostly, doubt. Its all there in my head, its all running around, the course is zooming around my head in fast forward, over and over. Can't stop. Can't wait. Paralyzed. Ready to drop the hammer. Scared the hammer won't be found.

Its that feeling, on the line, when you are so nervous you can hardly breathe. Your heart hammers in your chest, the butterflies are practically in your throat. Poles are shaking, even planted in the snow. Your whole body is shaking, so nervous, so strung-out, any second now and you'll false start. Five ... beep, beep, beep, beeeeeep. Two strides into it and you've completely forgotten the butterflies of the start; your adrenaline is now working with you to make every stride as much as it can be. Hundredths of a second count, here, a tenth could separate 16th from 23rd. That feeling-- I live for that feeling.

Snowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnow!!!!!!

Its finally winter here; we got lots of snow last night. I took pictures, but my computer decided to have an identity crisis and no longer turns on, so I can't post these lovely pictures of snow everywhere. You'll just have to take my word for it.

The ski fest is on for real, now, there are ski company folks everywhere, and tons of people everywhere, and I think I may have preferred this town when I had it to myself. Although I definitely prefer it with snow on the ground! This also means that the races are ON, which is a big relief, because I didn't exactly come out here for a vacation... although its been a fun one! I can't WAIT to put the hammer down!!

Spring Skiing

Today I skied for a Long Time. Suffice it to say that I had to eat a lot of food afterwards, and everyone else had left the plateau except for one Finnish guy, who luckily felt like giving me a ride. Conditions would have been great in April. Absolutely FANTASTIC spring skiing. Too bad its November...

However, the forecast is calling for up to six inches tomorrow night and constant snow through Tuesday. They make the call Tuesday at noon whether or not they'll hold the supertours. If they cancel the races, I know someone who will be a very unhappy camper.

I ran into Freddy B today. I almost didn't recognize him without the Brikos. I tried to take a picture of both of us, but I was too short to fit into the frame, so I had to ask someone else to take the picture. Incompetent? Quite possibly.

Today was a haiku day. The morning's haiku:

My skis kick and glide
I love extra blue weather
Effortless skiing

The afternoon's haiku:

Huffing and puffing
Slower than cold molasses
I don't belong here

I'm tempted to come up with a new haiku every day, but I don't think I'm that creative.