Test
At the pop of the gun firing, six guys, all thinking they are the best, anxiously throw their feet and hands from the line, until they can double pole fast enough to escape the enormous hubbub of the crowd. A sharp right out of the stadium, the team of combatants, flying atop Presque Isle's white corn, can only hear each other breathing and their hearts pounding.
The fight dwindles to five, as the over-anxious kid gets thrown into the woods. Whipped around the wrath of the first turn, and heading up the climb into the stadium takes an unfeasible amount of coordination to fit high tempo and power into a beautifully formed dynamic stride. Across the top of the course, shooting down into two quick hills like the humps of a camel, and down the other side, the course opens to the final hill sending a gut-check to the weak. That is where I planned be in in position to get airlifted past the leader around the next bout of turns into the straight away on the home stretch. Giving The County the show they wanted, I could finally throw my hands up, pump my fist, and make myself, coaches, parents, friends, and town proud.
At the moment, the best Junior sprinters are finishing the last adjustments on their skis. Athletes are running to the start line, finishing up the last of their warm-ups. Coaches are making the last adjustments to skis, and fans and parents are getting ready for a show.
But, I'm not there.
For more than a year I've been envisioning the fixture, each dream never failed to rise me from my seat. Exhilaration, anticipation, elation, and a mammoth amount of eagerness drove me through an awesome summer and fall of training. I knew the latter vision would come true. It sounds silly to have that much confidence, but I knew I was going to be one of the best in March.
Months later, having fought an ankle injury, sickness, hives, muscle cramps and something eating away at my body, the struggle that would be the final climb of the course has become as difficult as climbing any stairwell.
Why did this happen? How did I get here? While my coach, doctor and I are running through many tests to determine what is feasting on my body, I have a little philosophical reasoning.
"Nothing is given to man automatically, neither knowledge, nor self-confidence, nor inner serenity, nor the right way to use his mind.
Every value he needs or wants has to be discovered, learned and acquired-even the proper posture of his body," according to Ayn Rand.
I have always been weak with setbacks. Fate had it in me to learn how to deal with something that lasts more than a day or two. I've needed to learn how to stick to my principles and rely on good character even when it gets hard to believe. One needs to learn most things through experience and never let it go. It's hard to go on a road trip with one headlight. And although my trip has hit an unexpected detour, Will and I will be back on the highway when this clears over.
Good luck to my teammates that do have the chance to race at Junior Nationals this week. I hope everyone can get out to cheer them on. John Dixon and Welley Ramsey have really come a long way in just one year of working with us. Joey Bard has overcome a lot, and I believe that they can really do a lot of damage in Presque Isle. A big thanks to Will and Austin, Gabby and Kurt and the large group of people that have made it easier to "smile when it hurts the most".
The weather right now is majestic in Maine, so enjoy championship month and welcome March Madness to Northern Maine with zeal and fervor. It's going to be a good couple of weeks!
Age and the Great Game
This past week was a display of poor planning and racing for me. In my hopes to qualify for my second US J1 Ski Team, I came up a few spots short.
The most frustrating part, is that I know that I would have made that team if I were just a little more on top of my game, as despite my very poor racing, I was not far off the list. Yet, that last thought is far too common in sports. After a round of golf, when my brother and I will be telling my dad about an easy putt we missed, or a lost ball, contemplating how we could have shot our best scores on that very day, my dad would have humbling words for us. He reminds us of that spectacular shot we had, and how it levels out the score.
In ski racing, one could think the same about a season [bad races, good races]. Or, looking within a race, whereas one could say they lost time when they tripped up, but made it up with their fast skis, or out-skiing the rest of the field on the course's long climb. Although, I guess that is what sports are about. One hundred chances to shine within a performance, but also one hundred chances to screw up. Whoever screws up the least has the best chance of winning.
I thought a lot about age this week. I thought about the age of some of the better athletes on the circuit when the 'R' word started getting thrown around. I thought about the age of my teammate who has, by the narrowest of margins, twice missed the last spot on the US Olympic Ski Team. Him and I, both, came to Anchorage in hopes of qualifying for a national team. But, let me tell you a little bit about our age differences. This guy is 31, I am 17. This is likely the last team he tries out for. This was his last shot of making it to the greatest show on Earth for a winter athlete. This was one of the dozens of national teams I will likely have tried out for, in my upcoming career. The differences seen in our age? This guy, although presumably distraught at the fact that his career will have taken him very far, but maybe not far enough in his eyes, was a better guy to be around during US Nationals. He was a better teammate, more fun to hang out with, keeping his head fresh-fresh enough to be able to start over and attempt to lay it all down in each race.
I had a chat about this dude, with one of my coaches on a van ride home from Southern Maine, in our three day trip to get home from Anchorage. What she concluded from his career, is that he ended up being more successful in her eyes than some of his best competition. My teammate absolutely loves training. He loves racing. It shows more in him than any other athlete I know. This is what has driven him to compete for so long. And his passion has allowed him to compete at an extremely high level for such a long time.
Some of the athletes that have stolen spots on the Olympic team by the smallest of margins in the past, crashed hard when they were unable to continue racing fast. What makes his career so successful is that he enjoyed every minute of his incredible journey, and he did it with the most honest, care free, and hard working attitude.
I then started thinking about some of the surprising results of this past week. I thought about Tyler Kornfield, a freshman at University of Alaska Fairbanks [19 years old], who had a fourth place finish and earned a National Title. Tyler Kornfield and Reese Hanneman [20] were named to the Canmore World Cup team. At first I was astonished. But, then I started thinking about past skiers who have done a bang-up job of displaying strength as a Junior skier. Liz Stephen won a National Title, at the age of eighteen. When Andy Newell was 16, he made the Eastern Cup field look like they were skiing through puddles, when they introduced sprinting to the circuit. How well have Newell and Liz proven themselves on the world cup circuit in these past couple seasons? Look it up.
What I am getting at, is that when age matters, it is hard to fly. When Tyler Kornfield or Reese Hanneman stepped up to the line in the classic sprint qualifier, they surely saw themselves as another skier fighting for the podium, not as 19 or 20 year olds. And when Tyler Kornfield stepped up to the line and the gun went off in the Mens A Final, I'm sure he was not thinking that it was amazing, no matter what would happen, that he was even in the Final. That is what I would have thought. That is what most Juniors would have thought. And most of us would not have won. It's when you dare to have no barriers in athletics, or school, or your job, or any other thing you care about, that you can accomplish to no end. That is when you can allow yourself to be the best.
Not earning the chance to compete again internationally, this season, is a new opportunity. It gives me a lot to learn from, a lot to think about. It gives me an opportunity to go home, re-evaluate, and take a swing at the rest of my seasons goals. Although, over these next two months, while I hit the training hard, and smart, I am not 17. I am not a J1, not a Junior. I am another skier trying to make it to the top. There are no 'what ifs'.
There is also no time to be crotchety and irritable when things aren't working. I'm going back to the basics. This time there are no barriers. And this time I will continue to pay attention to what I have learned from my teammate, never forgetting why I love what I do.
Hildawg
|
Neighbor
|
|
|
Canmore, Alberta
|
Brother and his snowman
|
Truckee, California
|
Pete Cowan
|
