A couple weeks ago my strength coach Max asked if I had ever heard of Plato’s theory of the forms , before then sending me a workout of 50 Toes to Bar for time. I had a little experience with the theory from high school, and again during my freshman seminar at Dartmouth (the extent of my formal philosophy education). I asked what in the world Plato had to do with skiing or toes to bar, and Max said a conversation not for texting. A couple days later we got on the phone to debrief the Park City training block, and he explained his thinking.
The theory of the forms (in the most basic of basic terms) stipulates that every thing in reality is just an imperfect version of its form. A classic example is a table. A table has a certain “table-ness” about it, which is why we can identify three dimensional tables as tables. We can do this despite there being about a billion different actual tables. Everyone has an agreed upon form for a table, that then allows them to exist in reality. Or take a circle. Despite never actually seeing a perfect circle (such a thing cannot exist in reality), everyone has an idea of what constitutes a circle. These forms- that cannot exist in reality- are unchanging. But the renditions of the forms in reality are always changing.
Max had been looking at some technique video from the camp, and the idea of the forms jumped to his head. Take classic skiing, for example. There is something about classic skiing that allows everyone to agree it is classic skiing, despite every individual producing a slightly different rendition. From a coaching perspective, Max was thinking about chasing the classic form. Knowing that it cannot be attained, but still chasing this ideal.
I thought it was a cool way to think about technique, and then getting even more meta, a cool way to think about training in general. There does exist some training form, and I’d argue that everyone is just trying to chase that ideal. And because every individual is different, this chase looks a little different.
My chase has definitely been different from previous years. I am about to switch out my roller skis for snow skis as I leave for a three week trip to Norway on Sunday. I will be spending two weeks in Sjusjoen training, and then traveling to Beitostolen to compete in the opening FIS races for Norway. I’m heading to Norway for the same reason I headed to New Zealand- in an effort to imbue the essence of skiing I’m chasing its purest form.
I’ve been in Sjusjoen for a couple days now, and the skiing is amazing. They got a timely dumping of snow for their tourist trails, and just put the finishing touches on a 5K loop. I’ve adjusted to the time change beautifully, and am so excited for the next 2.5 weeks of Norwegian snow- check back in a couple weeks for an update, and then after that the Super Tour begins!
**For some reason my captions aren’t working- blame it on Norway! But the below is more or less a chronological depiction of the last two weeks in photos. Beginning with the end of Fall in Vermont, a short visit to New Haven to visit Henry, a stop on the Cape for a night with Mom, and then a couple snapshots of life in Norway so far!
Despite my current proclivity for nonfiction in leisurely reading, the fantasy world of fiction consumed my childhood. There are three series in particular that dominated my imagination: Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling, His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, and finally the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. While the first two series originated in my time, Narnia originated in 1950. It was a series my mom loved (I believe she identified strongly with Lucy), and as such the series as a whole holds a special place in my heart.
Much like the thought of receiving a letter from Hogwarts on my 11th birthday was a thrilling albeit unlikely possibility (I did almost write my college admission essay on my devastation), the thought of one day opening up a Wardrobe to fall into a snow covered world never ceased to be potentially possible. Walking to the lamppost to find a new Fawn best friend, and then immersing oneself into a terrific battle of good versus evil in the form of a lion and a glamorous witch, only to find out you were in fact royalty in this wonderful world is, to this day, something that gets me pretty excited.
Even though I haven’t given up hope there isn’t a Narnia in any of my Wardrobes, I’ve accepted that I must seek this wonderful and exciting world elsewhere in the real world. A couple weeks ago I’m excited to say I found it in New Zealand (and then a little bit everywhere in the world following that).
New Zealand was unlike any place I’ve ever been. The 16 hour time change and 27 hour travel day(s) instantly created an element of magic to the country. Just imagining how far I was from my home base made this feel a bit like Narnia. And then we went for a run down by a lake, skied up into the clouds on a crust cruise day, and a week later ran through a rain forest to an absolutely stunning waterfall. Every thing seemed just a bit more exciting- even the baked goods were magical (date scones, I haven’t forgotten about you yet). The people had the most soothing accent, the skiing was sublime (literally a valley called tranquility), and the ability to train on snow in September a true gift.
After many hours on snow, and many hours on a plane ride back home, I was exhausted. I felt about how the Pevenesie children must have felt following their epic battle for righteousness after tumbling out of the wardrobe. I tumbled out of the plane, and tumbled into bed. For about 9 days. Turns out doing the biggest weeks of the year, three races, and then traveling for 27 hours isn’t kind to the body. But I still sought that Narnia feeling, even if it was 85 degrees and sunny.
During that off block, I rediscovered the magic in the mundane. I could really delight in taking the dogs for a mile walk, making a delicious dinner with my mom and dad, and gossiping Taylor Swift with my little sister. I then took a much shorter flight to Rapid City, and found the magic in a beautiful mountain bike with my boyfriend. I’m now in Park City, Utah for a training camp, and am excited to find some magic here.
New Zealand was an amazing experience. Not only was it the best training decision I’ve made in a while- I vowed to get on more snow this season and New Zealand allowed for that invaluable addition- but it also refreshed my perspective. I relearned that Narnia isn’t necessarily behind a wardrobe, or a 16 hour time change away. It can be in an easy run in the woods, a perfect cup of coffee, or an exceptional recovery nap
Traveling last year following a three day mini tour from Ottawa, Canada back to Minneapolis before heading over to Europe for OPA racing, I had my best flight interaction to date. Due to a Food and Wine article about what really happens to airplane food (hint: it contains things that help it last up to five years in a freezer), combined with an aversion to paying 12 dollars for a small yogurt, I always pack food for the plane. Coming back from Ottawa I had one tupper ware of roasted sweet potatoes, a hydroflask full of rice pilaf and chicken, 3/4 a box of my favorite granola/cereal, and 2/3 a bag of protein powder. These items tend to set of alarms in the security line, mainly because they are so out of place (and protein powder looks like a more illicit substance).
So when the TSA (or whatever the Canadian equivalent is) took my bag off the conveyer for additional inspection, I was just expecting another quick examination of my travel snacks. I was the only one in line, and consequently struck up a conversation with the very friendly security personnel. As individual one went through my bag, he asked what I had in my food vessels. I told him exactly what it was, and he proceeded to declare, “So you have some bird food, more bird food, homemade bird food…” And this turned into a conversation about what I did that encouraged me to eat so much “bird food.” In explaining skiing, the two individuals asked the longest distance I’d ever raced. I told them 30 Kilometers, to which individual two stopped going through my bag and asked incredulously, “without stopping??” I said yes, and she said very emphatically, “THAT CRAZY.” To which I responded, “I agree.” Individual one said he understood why I ate the bird food, but wanted to make sure I had something sweet in there. I assured him I had a bar of chocolate, and after repacking my now deceased bowling ball backpack went on my merry way.
The pursuit of excellence in nordic skiing makes everyone involved do some pretty crazy things (neurotically packing homemade bird food is admittedly one of the least crazy things we do). We roll over hot pavement on remarkably unregulated roller skis sans breaks, voluntarily do physical acts to failure (looking at you treadmill tests), and watch ourselves ski walk up mountains on video (there is nothing harder, but also nothing more pathetic looking than a skier bounding up a mountain). Even crazier is the amount of travel in which we partake. I’m writing this on my 21st hour of travel, after skipping a day completely (flying over the date line), en route to New Zealand. I, and many other US nordic skiers, have just completed an unbelievable amount of travel chasing snow.
And, we do all of this with a smile (mostly- I wasn’t exactly smiling after getting off a 13 hour plane ride only to find out that Taylor Swift’s new song is incredibly dark. UPDATE: since writing this blog, I’ve actually grown to like it). I think it is one of my favorite things about nordic skiers- their willingness to go to such extreme lengths in search of happiness, excellence, and snow. It is an extreme devotion to task and self that I think is rare, and exceedingly inspiring.
I’m so incredibly excited to have the chance to hit up snow in August, and to do so in New Zealand. I’ll be here for two and half weeks, undoubtedly doing some “THAT CRAZY” worthy workouts, but mostly just soaking in all the on snow time I can. Check back for updates, and lots of pictures (thanks to my recent birthday, I have a phone with storage to spare).
p.s. I had lots of homemade bird food for my travel to New Zealand. It even included a homemade dark chocolate sunflower butter cup that Val made for me (gotta have something to get me through four hours of friends to ride out the last bit of a 13 hour flight).
As I’ve mentioned in prior blog posts, going into this season I have some big goals that required some big alterations to my modus operandi. I worked hard with Max and Pat to come up with a training plan very much tailored to my specific needs, have been diligently working to create purpose and intentions in even the most mundane of workouts (looking at you 60 minute afternoon double pole), and have made listening to my body a significant priority.
Last year I suffered a little bit from what I’m now calling an invincibility complex. Through out the summer and fall months I was continuously getting positive feedback in time trials and workouts that I couldn’t possibly do enough. I added 30 minutes here and 45 minutes there, generally gave into the desire to push just a little harder on every, single interval, and all the while assumed that I couldn’t possibly be broken by any of it. How could something that is making me fitter possibly make me slower?
Turns out it can, and it did. The “tireds” (a Sophie Caldwell term) happen when you least expect them, and when you would really rather do without them. So, going into this year I wanted to really stay on top of my tireds.
So when Max introduced me to the WHOOP company, I was immediately intrigued. In short, my whoop watch takes 100 heart beat measurements per second all day and all night. From that data it gives me my daily strain, and calculates how much sleep I should aim to get. Then, while I’m sleeping, it determines my resting heart rate as well as my heart rate variability (click on link for more info on that). From all of that information (including my overall sleep quality), the Whoop provides me with a daily recovery score. This ranges from 0% to 100% (neither of which I have actually seen) recovery, and from there gives a recommended daily strain.
While understanding that you can’t live, die, and train by the Whoop…it sure has been interesting. Some things aren’t surprising- like after a rest day I typically have my highest recovery scores. Or after a day of hard intensity and strength I typically have my lowest recovery scores.
And perhaps least surprisingly of all…I am NOT invincible. Training is designed to put a stress on your body, and then with ample recovery you bounce back at a higher level of fitness than before. But without this rest, you just start getting more tired and more tired. And then feeling tired becomes your norm, and when it’s time to really get going (i.e. winter racing) you simply cannot.
So in an effort to avoid the cannot in winter I’m opting for the do-not right now. I broke my training this year into seven week cycles, with each of those cycles ending with a nothing week. I don’t do any intensity, take as many days off as I need to feel antsy plus one more, and just focus on recovering, and recovering hard. And my do nothing week could not come at a better time!
I’ve had such a great block of training spanning three different time zones, lots of modalities and many training partners. I was so excited to finish it off with my Stratton teammates, and we really sent this block off in style with a 4 hour run in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
Cheers to recovery! Whoop whoop!
Due to the limited photo storage on my iPhone (which going on 1.75 years old is some kind of dinosaur in the tech world), I don’t actually have a ton of pictures depicting my adventures over the last month. I’ve been all over the country, begrudgingly had a six piece chicken McNuggets somewhere between Rapid City and Minneapolis (sometimes food is food), had a couple mountain bike crashes, set some new personal training records, and generally kept myself busy enough that I’ve started wishing for another hour in the day.
I do, however, have one of my favorite pictures of all time saved on my phone, probably forever (or at least until I have to try and save it to “the cloud” when my geriatric phone takes its last charge, I’ll crowd source for help when that happens).
There are many questions that are commonly asked of professional skiers. Number one is undoubtedly, “what do you eat for breakfast?” (it varies). Number two probably concerns training, how hard training is, or what I do for training every day (it varies). Then, after those questions, comes the question: what is your favorite part of ski racing? While the skiing fast, training hard, having a strong body, all the medals and glory (and also the money…) are great bonuses, nothing will compare to the women (and more broadly people) I’ve met and the deep seated bond we’ve formed over collective and individual failures and successes.
It has been one of the luckiest things in my life that I landed at Dartmouth College with Erika and Sophie first as scary upper classmen, then (and still) as amazing teammates and mentors, and finally as two of my very best friends. A couple minutes before Erika walked down the aisle to marry the man of her dreams, the only sensible thing to do was a team cheer (1,2,3 ANDY LOVES FLOWERS!). For me, the picture of this moment represents a lot. On the one hand the amount of amazing work and love that went into making the wedding the most beautiful wedding, possibly ever (250 napkins folded, 10 hours of make up application by Erika’s step-sister, some almost sleepless nights, and a 10 mile trail race). But on the other, more important hand, this picture represents absolutely everything that sport can bring you as a female.
This picture is a group of smart, athletic, independent, and powerful women all getting together to support one of their own. And it is the exact reason why I love sport so much, and also the precise reason I have been able to accomplish everything I’ve had in cross country skiing. Because at the end of the day- whether you win, lose, or draw- pictures of those moments aren’t the ones that will force you to conquer your fear of the cloud. It’s what got you there- namely, the people that saw (and even sometimes caused) the tears, sweat, and laughter- that remind you how awesome life truly is, and that the greatest accomplishment of all is the ability to grow and succeed as a group of women.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is that skiing has brought me a lot, but nothing compares to the people and relationships that I’ve had the tremendous luck of forming through my life as a full time skier. So find your people, it makes everything worth it.
Running on a dirt path with an awkwardly oversized 20 pound weight vest creating a small patch of raw skin that is just now beginning to heal, I had to take a moment and laugh at the hilarity of my situation. I could have been whipping up a batch of strawberry cornmeal pancakes with a hot latte in hand, enjoying the slowness that usually typifies Memorial Day Monday. Instead I was working very hard to run a mile, then complete 100 pull ups, 200 push ups, and 300 air squats…and then suffer through another mile. All the while toting around the aforementioned 20 pounds.
Thankfully I had set up my Murph (the annual crossfit Memorial Day workout) station next to an equally suffering individual. We had broken up our repetitions differently- I chose to do 20 rounds of 5 pull ups, 10 push ups, and 15 squats, while he was doing 5 rounds of 20 pull ups, 40 pushups and 60 air squats- but found ourselves to be moving along at similar paces. Just past the half way point, my Murph partner starts giving himself a pep talk. His weight vest had hit the ground one too many times, and in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, he says: “You wanted this! You did this to your self. This is your choice, you can stop ANYTIME you want.” He then proceeded to knock out the remaining push ups in his set and continue on to complete the brutal workout.
Fast forward a couple days, and I’m doing a 5 by one kilometer trail running workout. I consider myself to be a pretty good runner, but trail running is very much slower and very much harder than the typical road run. Rocks, loose gravel and some BIG UPS (1.2 miles of straight up in one instance) make the experience exponentially harder. I was in the middle of an all uphill kilometer, my heart rate was going up as my speed was going down, and I was ready to just finish out the interval without any real bravado. But then, the Murph Man’s voice popped into my head, reminding me that I was choosing to do this. If I wanted to stop, I could. No one was making me run up the hill, and no one would even know if I stopped. This reminder that what I chose to do- run up hills, race on snow and do 200 pushups with a 20# weight vest- was in fact my choice was weirdly liberating. Instead of choosing to stop, I chose to go harder.
Finishing up the final kilometer of up hill running, I was the closest to puking I’ve been in a long while. My legs totally flooded and my heart rate hovering around 190, I let my grimace turn into a smile. After another three minutes of rest, I did the last interval downhill (actually maybe the hardest part of trail running) smiling/grimacing/enjoying the choice the entire time.
Going into a new training season it is critically important to have intentions. Remembering that I am choosing to do this, and more than that I want to do this will be propelling me through this season. There will be days- I’m sure of it- where I don’t want to go outside, or do one more rep or push my heart rate up that extra beat. And it is important to listen to those days- why am I feeling that way? And it is equally important to sometimes push past those hesitations, voluntarily pop on a 20 pound weight vest and sweat it out over 42 minutes of constant work.
Luckily for me, there haven’t been many of those “push through the pain” days so far this year. I’ve just wrapped up a very successful May of training (including two weeks of on snow time in Bend, Oregon), and will be spending the month of June training in Rapid City, South Dakota. Cheers to choice!
Wrapping up an entire season in one- at least somewhat digestible- blog post is similar to finding a new favorite coffee shop and only going once a week. That is to say…nearly impossible (Harriet and Oak I’m the one who came twice on Wednesday). So I’m not promising a full dive into the guts and glory moments of the 2016-2017 season. But in trying to come up with a unifying theme for a year that was, in a word, frustrating, I got the inspiration from my strength/life coach Max.
One day Max came into the gym for my strength session, and decided to also hop into that day’s primary workout. When I asked in jest why he had decided to hop into the session, he said he had to become “harder to kill.” His dad had just broken his ankle, and while pushing yourself through an intense workout of thrusters and pull ups and med ball slams might not directly lead to broken ankle prevention, he figured it wouldn’t hurt his odds at avoiding that fate.
That harder to kill mentality stuck with me. While I had some definite highs this season- most notably my improved qualifying speed and mass start distance races- I also struggled a lot of the time. I found myself unable to get out of my own head, and instead of shaking off uncontrollable variables I let them decide that race’s outcome, and future races’ results. For example- when driving to the final race of US nationals (a skate sprint qualifier), the sky started spitting some mix of snow, ice, and rain. Instead of recognizing everyone was dealing with the same thing and understanding I had to race no matter what…I burst into tears. And being 100% honest, when a super tour was cancelled in Truckee, CA due to too much snow, I was almost relieved. I had gotten myself believing that I couldn’t perform well in blizzard conditions at 8,000 feet elevation, so not having to test myself against myself that day I saw as a bit of a blessing.
It was after returning home from the Truckee, CA super tour race that Max planted the harder to kill seed. He helped me flip my perspective from, “that really sucked,” to “somehow in someway that experience will make me harder to kill in the future.” So when I came down with a nasty cold mid sprint race at the last race series in Fairbanks, I worked hard to flip the narrative from the ever unattractive victim act of “why me,” to “get your butt in bed so you can go race a 30K.”
Despite not being at 100% health the day of the US National Championships 30K, I wanted nothing more than to race. And race with the mentality that pushing through this last race of the season would make me harder to kill next year. At 8K I thought I was done for. I had held on to the lead pack of six for the first 7.5 Kilometers (which included the 5th place finisher in that event at World Championships teammate Jessie), and then began to worry about how I would possibly make it another 22.5 Kilometers. That’s when my best friend Sophie hopped in front of me and told me to hang on. And hang on I did- and then miraculously with 10K to go I had a second (or maybe at this point third or fourth) wind. Sixth place was only 30 seconds in front of us, and it became my absolute mission to catch her. With three kilometers to go I had bridged the gap, but then began to cramp a bit. I simply told myself that I wasn’t cramping, and I had to make it to the finish line. Coach Pat told me to “remember my strengths” (which he intended to mean my speed, so encouraging me to ski slower and follow), but I was not in a physical or mental place to try any kind of tactics. I was simply charging towards the finish line. With 400 meters to go I put in my biggest effort of the entire season, sprinting across the line into sixth place. I was probably the happiest sixth place finisher ever.
While it wasn’t a win, I firmly believe I was only able to push myself to close that 30 second gap and then hold on for sixth place because of all the things that have happened this past season. The 2016-2017 season has literally made me harder to kill. It doesn’t mean it can’t happen- I can still have a bad race, a spectacular blow up at a bad time…be beat. But I am going to spend the next ten months making myself as hard to kill (or less dramatically beat) as possible. And, I know there are a lot of other very talented, driven, and incredible women doing the same thing.
This next year is a big one- the Olympics have been a goal of mine for three years now. Qualifying for the team will take an incredible amount of effort, time, sacrifice… and a bit of luck too. Regardless of the outcome, I want to look back and know that I did absolutely everything I could. The worst thing in the world would be looking back and realizing I hadn’t been that hard to kill. So with that I’m making a promise to myself, and sharing it with everyone. Everything I do from now through January will be in the pursuit of being harder to kill. Right now, that means taking a pause from focused training to reset (and spending a lot of time cruising on my mountain bike). Then when May rolls around, it will be planning and figuring out how to accomplish my goals. Ten months is both a very long and very short time, and I can’t wait to share the story with all of you.
An incredibly massive heartfelt thank you to everyone who has encouraged and supported me this season. And especially to my family, boyfriend and furry four legged friends for occasionally picking me up from a puddle on the floor. Also to my teammates and coaches, and of special note Max and the rest of the Powerhouse for helping me find a 2017-2018 season motto. Here’s to being harder to kill!
Walking into the River’s Eatery on Saturday night (the Saturday that was supposed to see my 51K Birkie Debut), I was expecting to see a lot of very sad and grumpy skiers sitting quietly over their perfectly cooked pizzas while sipping on a feel better beer. Instead, the restaurant was pleasantly full of very happy people. Talking with owners Mick and Beth, I was asking how the Birkie cancellation (due to low snow/ high ice) had affected business and morale. Mick paused for a second and then said, “You know, I think this has been the happiest group of Birkie people yet. All the grumpy people just went home, and the people who remained are really here because they want to be.”
Several thoughts went through my head when the official Ben Popp (President of the Birkie, and hopefully future presidential nominee for the United States…he was that good) video surfaced online cancelling the Birkie. One, DAMN. Two, WHAT A BUMMER. Three, why couldn’t that storm have tracked 50 miles to the north. And finally, four, what are they going to do with all of the bananas?
A couple days prior (when the hail mary snow storm seemed to be on track to dump 18 inches of snow on the Birkie trail), Ben had posted a picture on Facebook of what must have been thousands of bananas. These, along with energy drinks, energy gels, oranges, brats, beers, and shots, were intended to help fuel the 10,000 Birkie participants along the beautiful Birkie trail from Cable to Hayward. But with the race cancelled, what would happen to all of that stuff (well, I knew what would happen to the brats, beers, and shots).
The Birkie team put out an incredible effort, and on Birkie Saturday had “Birkie Stock.” A nice 5K loop was put together, and all of the on snow demos, food, and music travelled from Hayward to the new Birkie start line in Cable. Nearly 10,000 people attended throughout the day (normally the Birkie brings closer to 30,000 people). I stuck around, and very happily skied some 5K loops with my mom, tried the official Birkie Brew-Ski, and watched some very joyful people dance to the live band. Earlier that morning I had ventured out on to what would have been the course, and much to my happy surprise skied 30 Kilometers (well, probably skied closer to 28 kilometers and walked 2 of them…and made a new pair of rock skis). I ran into a number of people on the trail. One guy had started in Cable and was trying to make it all the way to Hayward, whether he had to ski, run, or swim. Another individual said he didn’t do all this training for nothing, and was planning on hiking 25 Kilometers to the party. And another duo had already made it 25 Kilometers, and were shotgunning beers at 10 in the morning.
I’ve had some times this season where I feel like I have 10,000 bananas and nothing to do with them. Whether that something is me poling between my legs at the start of a sprint heat (a la the Michigan supertours), not selecting the right skis, or just some serious bad luck (blizzards, rain, hail), I’ve had some times this season where I just feel like nothing goes right. I’ve done all of this careful preparation and made so many improvements, only to feel like I didn’t have the chance to show it off. When this situation arises, I’ve learned (very valuably I think, although it took some time) that you have two options. Option one: Feel bad for yourself, play the victim, and do nothing with the metaphorical bananas. Option two: Make banana bread.
Everyone who stuck around for Birkie Stock in lieu of the actual Birkie opted for the latter. They took those 10,000 bananas and made some delicious bread. They still got outside (including many individuals who completed 10 laps of the 5K loop), hung out with an amazing community, ate good food, and danced their faces off (looking at you doughnut pants lady).
So for me, I’m currently taking my 10,000 bananas to Italy and Austria. I skied well enough at US Nationals to qualify for the Europa Cup Trip, and will be racing the equivalent of the World Cup “JV” circuit for two weeks. I’m excited to get some more high quality racing in this season before I actually do nothing but bake for a couple weeks, fueling up for another season of training.
I want to encourage everyone to make sure they surround themselves with bread makers. These are the people that make you feel empowered and important. I’m lucky enough to have a lot of bakers in my life. Plus…no one has ever complained about having too much banana bread
P.S.If you’re looking for a healthy banana bread recipe, head over to my food blog enduring eats. After a great week of races in Canada I had some extra bananas and buckwheat flour on my hands…and this delicious recipe came straight out of the oven into my tummy.
You either love Valentine’s Day or you hate it (I’m not sure there is a single person alive who feels “meh” towards this day of love). If you hate it…then this blog post is not for you (or maybe it is primarily for you). Because this blog post is all about love.
I love skiing. Through skiing I’ve met all of my best friends. I’ve learned a lot about myself, my body, and what makes me tick. And most of the time, skiing loves me back. I’ve found that generally the harder you work at skiing, the better (relative to others) you’ll become.
Except for sometimes, it doesn’t work that way. Sometimes no matter how much attention and love you give skiing, it just responds with a quick slap in the face. This smack is often the result of uncontrollable variables. Sometimes it’s a fall, a sickness, just plain bad feelings… or sometimes it is nine feet of snow in four days (looking at you, Truckee).
And as everyone knows, loving something (or someone) who just doesn’t seem to be loving you back is heartbreaking. To offset this heartbreak, common practice (Hallmark) produces a myriad of half joking cards renaming Valentine’s day “Singles Awareness Day” in some sort of semi-insulting-but-intended-to-be-empowering marketing scheme. Or cards hinting at the luxuriousness of cat-lady life, or the half sized bottles of wine to enjoy with your single filet mignon (and a microwave cupcake for one).
And while these are nice ideas, for anyone experiencing true heartbreak, this does absolutely nothing. No amount of “support” in the form of chocolates, flowers, and cards can heal a heartbreak. Further, hating other people (or the holiday) for having a requited love won’t get you very far either. In my newfound experience (thankfully only relating to skiing), the only way to move on is to give your unconditional love.
After the first half of the season and the snow storm that was Truckee, I was starting to feel a little bit spiteful towards skiing. Instead of throwing my unconditional love at races and training, I started just expecting something to go wrong. I became overly focused on things I simply could not control, and was failing to race the way I know best- going as hard as I can from the start and holding on.
When I went to talk to my strength/life coach Max, I described it as unrequited love. From this inherently negative perspective I was going to get nowhere. Max encouraged me to rebrand the love from unrequited to unconditional.
Racing will almost never go exactly how you want it to go. In fact, more often than not you will cross the finish line wishing you had done something differently- be it pacing, ski selection, waxing or group tactics. And if you don’t hold an unconditional love for racing, you will not make it very far. Because playing the victim and feeling genuinely hurt only digs you deeper into the hole. And the more you dig, the further you have to climb out.
As it turns out, I had about five days of climbing. But after five completely off days, I was feeling the love. Caitlin Gregg invited me to do some skate intervals with her at Wirth, and it was honestly the most fun I’d had in about two months on skis. We had a great session of cat and mouse, each pushing each other a little faster every interval. Then I went to Ottawa, Ontario for a three race weekend at Canadian Eastern Championships. I came away with one of my best qualifiers ever, a third place in the sprint and two wins in the classic and skate distance races.
Most importantly, I had so much fun doing it. Type two fun (because 15 Kilometers of skating in the falling snow as hard as you can go hurts a lot), but still, so much fun. And then I had three days of extra training in Ontario that included skating on the world’s largest outdoor ice arena, a beautiful ski through Gatineau Park (200 Kilometers of groomed trails!), a trip to the nicest anytime fitness I’ve ever been to, and finally a beautiful sunny day exploring the Nakkertok Trails (and the jumps they groom). I was lucky enough to be staying at a beautiful home near all of the foreign ambassadors home (courtesy of Veronica and Eric Wessels, Veronica was my mom’s Dartmouth roommate), and took many beautiful walks, checked out local coffee shops and cooked a lot of great food.
I’m back to a place of unconditional love, and with this emergent perspective I’m feeling a lot of love from skiing, too. We’re back to a very happy relationship, just in time for Valentine’s Day (coincidentally the next period of Supertour Racing and the Birkie).
So if you’re a person who loves Valentine’s Day…I’m with you. If you’re a person who thinks it’s the dumbest day in existence, I encourage you to change your perspective. Instead of thinking of it just as a hallmark holiday for people already in love to obnoxiously share that love all over social media, find the things that you have unconditional love for. Really give the unconditional love your full self, and I promise you’ll get some love back. With or without a card and instagram post
I feel confident that not one single person (even the ski guru Zach Caldwell himself) could have predicted the past nine days at Soldier Hollow for US Nationals. What is normally a very straightforward venue- both for waxers, coaches, and skiers alike- became anything but. Each day brought some new form of precipitation, often changing every five minutes. And in a sport where (like it or not) skis and wax make almost as big of a difference as an athlete’s fitness, this made the last week, in a word, hellish.
Waxers quite literally made beds under wax benches before classic days (Pat did an absolutely amazing job all week long- he cares so much and I am so lucky to have him on my side), and dealt with a myriad of logistical obstacles. To start, the wax trailers were 2 days late. Then the morning of the first race, there was no power to any of the wax trailers, forcing an hour delay. The grooming plan wasn’t clear, and for athletes there was not a warm up course that at all represented the actual race course. The timing site often crashed, leaving waxers, coaches, and athletes waiting till the last minute on sprint days to find out if they were in fact lucky losers. And finally, the wax cabins were about a 5 minute run and a 10 minute brisk walk to the start, which when combined with changing conditions (and coaches waiting until the last possible minute to make a wax call to try and ensure the best possible skis) certainly resulted in a couple of pre-race stress tears (GUILTY).
I don’t normally like to complain about race sites, but for this to be a standard for US Nationals competition is unacceptable, especially because U23 and Junior World Championships will be held at the same venue in just over two weeks. While it is a massive bummer that this had to happen at US Nationals, I think there is a lot that can be improved when the world’s best descend on Park City.
For all of these reasons (combined with the 5,000 foot elevation), this week did in fact put every single athlete, coach, waxer, volunteer, and parent through both hell and high water. Despite all of this, I’m pretty happy to report that I had two great race results, one medium result, and one result I just really have no explanation for at all.
The first day of racing was the 10K skate, and I will give that day an A+ for planning and a C for execution. I have always struggled with distance skating at altitude (I seem to always have a spectacular blow up), so I wanted to really pace the day. I went out conservatively, and for the first time in my life almost even splitted (went the same pace each lap), and also for the first time in my life missed the finish lane and instead headed out for another lap. I wasn’t the only one (the course was not well marked), but I feel lucky that even in my race haze I remembered to pull a 180 and go backwards to finish. So while the plan was a good one- pace and don’t blow up- I never got going fast enough to be competitive in the race. I think this is an important lesson. When you make a race plan, it will probably only work 75% of the time. It doesn’t mean that your plan was necessarily bad or you should never make a plan again, but it is worth recognizing what went right and what went wrong so you can make a better plan the next time.
Despite the added variables on a classic day, both the classic sprint and the classic 20K were great physical and mental efforts for me. I ended up racing the “A” Final on the classic sprint day to end up as the 4th American, and then went the opposite distance and finished as the fifth American on a very challenging and mental resiliency testing 20K day.
The new classic sprint course at Soldier Hollow is awesome. It is a course where double poling really isn’t a viable option for four rounds of as-hard-as-you-can-go efforts, and requires both tactics and fitness to prevail on top. The course is a combination of a minute of climbing, a fast downhill, a big kicker, and then a long stretch into the stadium. The lead up to the qualifier was I think the most nervous and stressed I’ve ever been before a race. The conditions were absolutely out of control- a combination of fresh powder, glazed tracks, and icy climbs. I chose to race on klister. I exploded out of the gates and was really excited about how I felt and the ratio of kick to glide (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VO5LNExTPrU) on my skis. But part way up the last wall, I realized that I was starting to accumulate a lot of snow on the bottom of my skis. This is particularly dangerous going into a big downhill (think face plant), and I decided to stop at the top of the climb and quickly scrape off my skis. I’m happy to report I made it down the hill on my feet, and also feeling really mature about myself as a racer. I know if that had happened last year I would not have even considered making a risk analysis (stop clean skis and lose seconds, or fall and lose more seconds) two minutes into a three minute race.
I qualified well, and throughout the heats learned that my fitness is right where I want it to be, but I got a little out-tacticted on the final climb. I was at the back of the pack as we descended into the stadium, and put down maybe my best double effort+lunge to date to clinch fourth American. Also, it was pouring outside the whole time (with no dry space near the start for either athletes, waxers, or coaches to go between heats- another thing to fix before U23/Worlds), and by the end of four rounds everyone looked like drowned rats or wet kittens (depending on your facial expression).
The 20K classic was a course with three distinct huge climbs, followed by fast downs with almost no flat or undulating terrain. It was clear to me at the beginning of the race that I had amazing climbing skis. I was able to stride right up most of the hills, and spent most of the race leading a group of four to close down a gap to the leaders. While I didn’t quite catch third place, I was really excited with my mental strength throughout an hour-plus of racing. I never gave up, and while I ended up fifth American on the day (not quite the first I was hoping for), I gave everything I had and have to be satisfied with that.
The final day of racing- a skate sprint qualifier only- I really have no answer for. I felt a little flat from the 20K effort two days prior, and the waxing conditions were rather difficult (heavy falling snow over wet snow over ice), but still I’m not sure what happened there. Typically my skate sprinting is one of my strengths, but I ended the day in the 20s, disappointed and scratching my head.
By the end of eight days of “hell and high water” (according to Caldwell Sport), I was exhausted and having a really tough time getting past the negatives and variables and focusing on the things that I did really well. I was having a hard time finding the silver lining. Driving to dinner with my mom through yet another snow storm, one of my favorite songs came on:
It’s worth listening to a couple of times (I’ve listened to it at least five times this morning). My three favorite lines are (1) “Hey, don’t write yourself off yet” (2) “It just takes some time, little girl your in the middle of the ride, everything everything will be alright” (3) “Live right now, yeah, just be yourself. It doesn’t matter if it’s good enough for someone else.”
Skiing, and US nationals this year in particular, felt like the most puke inducing roller coaster ride of my life. It was supremely challenging both physically and mentally, and I certainly had some seriously questioning moments. But it would be unfair to me to completely write myself off- at the end of the day I still had two top five races. I felt good, and I continue to feel strong and fast. I’m controlling the variables I can control, and getting much better at shaking off the variables I can’t. After all, it just takes some time, I’m going to keep on being myself and everything, everything will be just fine, everything, everything will be alright alright