I'm in Japan!

I made it to Japan after 30 hours or so of travel. 14 hours on a plane is a looong time. The highlight of the trip was sitting in the massage chair at the brooks store. Are you supposed to buy things at those stores? I thought you just got free massages! Also, my wax box apparently looks like a box of C4. I got a little worried that they wouldn't let me through with it, but I convinced them that my wax was harmless. Just don't eat it.



Saturday I went up to Waterville Valley with the Bermans. A beautiful bluebird day. First time up tripoli, kick was quite good as it was in the shade, I was on such an endorphin high, it was fantastic. L2, just kicking and gliding and MOVING, there really is nothing to beat moving your body in a skiing motion. Especially while classic skiing, that movement is just right. The little nuances, subtle weight shifts that make the ski glide three inches further, perfect cooridnation between upper body and lower, breathing in rhythm with everyhting, sun beating down, melting the death cookies in the tracks as I glide over them. Poetry in motion. Yes, it is.



Now I'm on the other side of the world, and the skiing is just as wonderful. The first thing I did when I got here was to buy some sushi and snacks. The sushi snacks are awesome, you pull off the plastic and the seaweed had been held separate but as you pull the plastic out it puts the seaweed on the rice... hard to explain. It was just awesome.



The Tokyo airport is an airport, just like anywhere else, but what I thought was cool was that all the escalators and moving walkways are motion-sensored: you walk through a little thingy that notices thtat you're there and starts the escalator, and then it goes until you get off. Genius!

And then I bought a bento box of sushi. Sushi! In Japan! It made me happy :)


Tomorrow is the sprint. The trails here are narrow and steep and there is a lot of snow, so hopefully it will go well with no broken equipment (or bones).

Globe trotting

I'm off to Japan on Sunday, for the ski orienteering world championships. We're competing at the Rusutsu resort, which is about 2 hours south of Sapporo. I probably won't get a chance to do much other than race, but I'm wicked excited anyway. I know that the Japanese eat things other than sushi, but I really hope they serve me sushi for breakfast, lunch, and dinner...



The US is sending four men and five women to this race. Each country can race four skiers of each sex in each race, except the relay which has three-person teams. This means that the women have to battle it out tooth and nail to see who has to sit out an individual start race. The relay will be picked based on results from the week. I think I have a good chance of doing all the races, so hopefully you'll be plagued with race reports.

Sayonara!

Bad idea

If you've ever wondered what happens if you put universal klister on your skis in December and then leave them standing upright at room temperature until the end of February, well, the klister runs down the ski and chemically seals the ski tie to the base. Some of the klister will leach through the ski tie and puddle on your rug, too.

Not that I would have done that. Oh no, not me.

Tuesday night racing

This was only my third Tuesday night race, which is too bad, I like these things. I think they actually are really good for learning about drafting and skiing in a pack and minding your poles and your eyes and throwing elbows and staying upright. Nothing like a high-speed mass-start with your pride on the line to get people moving. Last night I had fast skis, they were the pair of skis I'd waxed for the Birkie with fluoros that had ended up being slower than the LF skis (meaning I used the skis with LF), so for once I had fresh jetstream moly on a pair of cold skis, putting me on equal footing with other people who wax their skis for Tuesday nights!

I got off to a bad start, I was right behind Marc Jacobson in the start grid and he fluffed a pole plant, bringing him to a standstill, and I skied into him, and then he started moving again and now I wasn't moving, so I ended up a couple rows further back than normal. Its too bad, because the start actually matters in these fast races, and I was hoping to see if I could ski with the lead pack with my fast sksi. I passed some people I normally don't see, and by the first downhill I was alone, chasing a pack with fast people in it, like Blazar. It quickly became clear that I was not gaining on their pack, and coming through the infield I looked back at the 180 and realized I was towing a huge group of guys. Crap.

I led over the top of Mt Weston, and then one of the guys went by, it was Neil Garrison, one of my J2s. I knew he'd be a smooth skier and easy to follow, so I sort of forced my way back into line behind him, and instantly the pace felt easier. Ahhh, drafting. Neil took us around most of that lap, and coming up into the infield from the river I let my momentum take me around again for another pull. I pulled through the 180 before the finish, and then approaching Mt. Weston Neil and Bob Burnham got ahead. I checked behind me, but it appeared that the big group had let a gap open up, it probably happened when somebody slipped on one of the icy patches somewhere, doesn't take much. I bided my time behind Bob, who provides a nicer wind shadow than a skinny little J2, and then used my rocket skis to pass him on the downhill going into the infield. Still behind Neil, I let him lead through to the final uphill before the finish, when he looked back as though asking me to take the lead. Aw hell no, I ain't that dumb! Poor guy had no chance as I slingshotted around him to take the "win". I think this might actually be the first sprint finish I've won all season. Thanks, Neil!

The Birkie!

I just got back from racing in the biggest ski race in the country, the American Birkebeiner. There were 7,500 racers, 15,000 spectators, 60,000 cookies, and 6000 gallons of soup. That is a lot of cookies. I had no idea what to expect when I signed up for this race, I knew it was big, but how big hadn't quite hit me.

I got to Minneapolis Thursday night, stayed with Aaron Blazar's family, and then we (me, Blazar, Eric Fitz, John Swain, and Nick Kline - stuck in a van full of Colby boys) drove up to Telemark Friday morning. I had to work in the Alpina booth for a bit that afternoon, and we were selling Bjorn Daehlie (the clothing line) hats, but we didn't have a mirror. So, I took pictures on my digital camera and people could look at themselves that way. I particularly like this picture, because it looks like Bjorn himself is skiing up behind me.


The Alpina booth at the demo. I scored a ton of free gels and stuff, I love ski exhibitions :)

Saturday morning, I was starting in wave 2, so I got to watch the elite waves go off. I looked for Bjorn Daehlie in the classic race but I didn't know what suit he was wearing, so I didn't see him. I also didn't realize that you're supposed to be lined up in your wave 10 minutes ahead of time, so I showed up with 5 minutes to go, and everyone was already lined up. I briefly considered lining up in the back, and then decided, screw that, I'm pushing my way to the front. So, I did, and I sort of felt guilty about just barging up to the front of the line, but at the same time, I think I'm pretty easy to pass, so at least this way I could get away cleanly and people could pass me on their own time later. They said go, and I started double poling, and I quickly found myself out front and sort of alone. 4-5 guys went by, and the first 3km went really quickly, until we made a turn and started climbing under the powerlines. A couple more guys passed me there, because I was quickly finding out that my legs felt like utter crap, and climbing was difficult.

It is really too bad that climbing felt this difficult, because there were some big climbs. My skis were fast enough that I would go whipping down the hills, catching up to the guys who had dropped me on the last climb, but then they would drop me again as things angled upwards. There wasn't much flat, but I liked the rollers. At about 12km, there was a really big hill. Actually, I don't think it was that big, but it looked huge. When the trail is 30 feet wide, its a little hard to make it not just go straight up hills in a giant swath of clear-cut. I figured that even though my legs wanted to die, I would just keep eating and try to keep my feet moving, and see what happened. We had some really fun, fast downhills after that big hill, and I was starting to enjoy myself.

The guys I was skiing with were really friendly, and although we never really formed a pack, due to the lack of flats, my Peltonens' rocket powers on the downhills, and my legs' inability to climb, but I was still starting to think of them as my guys, and I was disappointed when I realized that I had to let some of them go so as to not blow up.

When I passed the OO feed station, I knew I was about halfway done, and done with all the major climbs except Bitch Hill. For another 5km or so I put my head down and skied hard, cleaving through wave 1 skiers like a warm knife through butter, but then I caught up to one of my guys from wave 2 who was in a Bowdoin suit, and I just had to know when he had graduated. So we started talking, and skied together at an out-of-breath-but-talking pace for like 5-8k, weaving through lap 1 skiers, and then I realized I should probably go harder than this. I was also realizing, though, that my upper body was getting really tired, particularly my forearms, of all things. I went through the 38.5km feed station, and I'd been sort of taking splits on my watch, and I was glad to see I was going faster than in the beginning of the race when I'd been on track for a 3hr race. Dorcas was there, and she handed me a new bottle, and I did my best to speed up a little.

And then the coolest part happened. The lead classic skiers passed me, in a pack of four, and one of them was Bjorn Daehlie himself! I had to ask, are you Bjorn Daehlie? He grunted and nodded, and I skied along for a couple minutes in complete star-struck-fan-mode. Then I realized that I was catching back up to that pack on downhills, since I didn't have kick wax on my skis, so I got to yo-yo with Bjorn Daehlie for almost a kilometer! Of course, when we hit Bitch Hill at 40k, they classic skiers were gone, and my new life goal is to classic ski like Bjorn - he makes it look so easy! Anyway, my quads were right at the cusp of completely tweaking out, I was basically begging them to please hold it together and let me get up this hill, because if they started spasming that would be the end. Bitch hill ended up not being that long, it was just another of those wide-open attitude-destroyers, and there was a nice downhill afterwards. I made it over the crest without my quads starting to shake, but I could tell they were on the edge.

I took my last gel and pushed hard into each downhill, still able to see Bjorn's pack of skiers but unable to catch up to them. I was still passing wave 1 skiers like it was my job, but I had reeled in two more of my guys from wave 2. The Bowdoin skier I'd left behind me. Finally we came down a long hill onto THE LAKE. I had heard real horror stories about the lake. How people lost minutes to their competition battling a fierce headwind and snarling wolves and shouting natives and beer-guzzling snowmobilers and racers lost their will to finish in front of a grill filled with sausages and cold beer. I didn't think it was so bad, though, I didn't have anyone to draft since I was passing people, but I just put my head down and V2-alternated as hard as I could, and 2km later I climbed up the shore of the lake into the town, and I knew I was almost done, yippee! The finish is down main street, and the snow was all sugary, but the street was lined with fans from shoulder to shops, it was amazing. I've never skied the finish of a race like that. One of my guys from wave 2 passed me on the finish straight, but that was alright, those were nice guys.

After the race, they gave me a medal for finishing, and pointed me in the direction of my clothes bag, and the girl handed me my clothes bag and I tried to hold it in my cramping left hand and immediately dropped it. My forearm was visibly spasming, it was really weird. I managed to grab the bag in a bear hug and made it to the changing tent, and then the soup tent, and then the hang-out-and-wait-for-your-friends tent, and despite being rather tired, I felt pretty good. Its amazing how when you don't bonk, marathons can actually be quite enjoyable! When I finally went to look up results, I found out I was 23rd, so that darn well better put me into the elite wave for next year. Kind of cool to ski into a top 25 from the wrong wave! I think I'll be back...

Elite men's wave.

On main street after the race with Adam and Eric.

Looking toward the lake.

Main street. Packed. Looking at the finish.

Finish area mayhem.

Decompress

Everyone needs a weekend off from racing now and then, so I lined it up with my birthday and we went alpine skiing and life was good. I also bought some strawberries, since it was my birthday, and on your birthday, you can buy out of season fruit, and that made me intensely happy. I think I should buy strawberries more often.

The past two weeks have been tough, motivation-wise, but I think I'm nearing the end of my midwinter slump. This weekend I fly west, for the Birkie. I thought I was starting in wave 10, and maybe I still am, but I petitioned to start higher, and the online confirmation thing says I'm in wave 2. Hopefully I won't get shunted back to wave 10 when I go to get my bib. Either way, I'm going to have a good time, this much is certain.

A rewarding night at Weston

Wednesday night, I went to help with Bill Koch League skiers (skiers between 5 and 12 or 13 years old) with their double poling. Jim Stock, the head BKL coach, was worried that none of them were double poling well, despite striding well, and after seeing them do it, I had to agree. I've never coached a group this young before, usually I deal with highschoolers, and since they're skiers they're almost always good kids, attentive and willing to learn and in it because they love it. I figured the little kids were probably in the same boat, but just in case, I made sure to never talk for more than 2-3 minutes, so as to not outlast any attention spans.

We were working mostly on the "teaching area" at Weston, because it is under the lights, and we had a lot of parent volunteers and other coaches (also parent volunteers) to keep things organized. It was a big group, the biggest group I've ever worked with, but apparently Jim talked up my supposed classic technique enough that they thought they were getting something really special, a notion I was not about to disabuse. So they listened attentively, and even willingly shouted "BAM!" as they slammed their poles into the snow like I told them to. Highschoolers would never do that...

I am always amazed that suggestions made by a coach can actually manifest themselves as technique changes, especially when it happens right before your eyes. After doing some drills, I gave them two things to think about, and they were almost instantly skiing better. After we finished up our double poling part of the lesson, I called on different people to ask what they'd work on, and everyone gave me serious answers that followed in line with something I had said earlier in the night. I was definitely on a teacher's high after that. There is nothing so rewarding as teaching something that you love to a younger generation and seeing them "get it". These kids are going to be the next wave of CSUers going to JOs, and I was psyched to have gotten to work with them this early. Now if they can just remember any one thing I've said, we'll be ok...