A Day Off

In the Piazzo d'Oro cafe on the edge of the Liberec town plaza the overlaying of Eastern European history and the lycra-clad world of skiing makes an odd juxtaposition. Directly outside my cafe window looms the elaborate stone facade of the Liberec town hall, built in 1888-93. As my gaze travels from the copper spires, green with time, down to street level, the current World Championship event demands acknowledgement. A large "Liberec 2009" banner plasters a short temporary fence in front of the building and neon-coated security guards stand in pairs shifting their weight from foot to foot and taking purposeless steps.

Slightly out of view to my right is a large screen showing the day's events in real-time. Green plants, feeling defected about the persistent snow and mythical sun, obscure my view of the temporary stage where they award the coveted FIS snowflakes. I don't need to see it to be reminded of all it represents-- the years of training, broken down into months, weeks, hours, and minutes of our lives dedicated to a pursuit and a passion that's difficult to justify.

Further down the plaza is a temporary building housing the official "Liberec 2009" merchandise, chintzy hats and t-shirts using the World Champs to promote the city of Liberec. A trail of booths selling souvenirs, food, and booze stretch optimistically down the streets hoping to lure tourist and czech alike into pausing and purchasing en route from the city's main bus stop to the plaza. I shouldered my way through the crowds the other night, peering into booths and enjoying the festival atmosphere with my teammates as the slush soaked into our shoes but it's a Sunday morning now and the plaza is quiet. Most good czechs are in church or, more probably, sleeping off Saturday night's indulgences in the cheap and renowned czech pilsner.

Many of the pedestrians outside my window are associated with the World Champs, identifiable by team jackets, hats, and that look by which skiers can recognize each other. Like me, they're seeing what Liberec has to offer aside from ski trails and jumping hills. I have to wonder to what life they'll be returning after the championships are over. Different norms and mores back home, different motivations, languages, but we still end up at the same ski race and have a shared experience.

Tomorrow I'll be back at the venue, testing skis, coaxing the muscles into firing, and finishing the final preparations for the skate sprints on Tuesday but today I'm taking a break from the streets defined by wax trailers and ski trails outlined in v-boards, letting the body rest, letting the mind wander.

Ski with Intention

While I was in Rossland training before coming over to Europe, Ellis & I, along with some of the rosslanders, spent some time discussing technique. It was good to have some technique discussions that were more egalitarian than the normal coach-athlete technique session. Ellis & I did some video analysis and put some thought into how I could be skiing better, faster, more efficiently. I think this type of peer review is a superlative way to approach technique because it encourages me to take ownership of my technique changes and decide for myself what needs to be done instead of depending on someone else to tell me.

My conclusion after two weeks of focused, uninterrupted training in Rossland was that I need to ski with intention. Maybe I liked that idea because I'm not exactly sure what I mean by it. There's something freeing in choosing a catch phrase that's open to whatever interpretation fits my mood.

Too often when I watch myself skiing I think "lazy, lazy, lazy." There's not so much wrong with the basic technique movements as there is the attitude behind them. There's too much of just going through the motions; I'm lacking the frenzy of wanting to cover that next 10m so badly that I look like I just might fall on my face. Not, of course, that falling on one's face would be the goal.

Ski with intention. Other candidates for my slogan were ski with a purpose (except I kept thinking "porpoise" instead of "purpose" which is distracting) and ski like you mean it (but I frequently like words based on their syllable count). Ski as though the only thing you desire in the world is to move down the track as fast as possible. It's simple, but sometimes I get caught up in weight transfer and dynamic legs and my world view shrinks to the space my body currently occupies and I fail to plan its future occupation of the space ahead of me.

I want to ski with intention. I want to live my life with intention. If I can ski and race like it matters, then I can live like it matters. I believe that's a sufficient (although not necessary) condition for achieving that elusive satisfaction with life. If you can convince yourself that a ski race is meaningful I think it's easier to find the meaning in the rest of life.

Nature vs Nurture

One of my fellow ITA athletes, Matt Chisam sent out a query concerning nature vs nurture in regards to sports. I think nurture is much more important and nature only incidental. Below are my responses to his questions. Be sure to check out the thoughts of the other ITA athletes on this subject!

THE BASICS
1. What is the athletic background of your parents and family?
Neither of my parents have been competitive athletes, or even the more general definition of athletes who compete in their sport. My family was very active while I was growing up-- our summer vacations were week-long backpacking trips and I was introduced to a variety of sports and activities.

2. When did you begin participating in your sport?
I started skiing as soon as I could walk. I also competed in local races since I was young but I didn't think of myself as a ski racer until I was about 12 years old.

THE EXTRAS
1. What was your early experiences with sport like?
My early memories of sport are fun and laid-back. I don't remember any pressure and at races we were more concerned with hanging out before and after the race as what happened during the race. Participating in sports was a good reason to travel and hang out with my friends.

2. How instrumental were parents and coaches in the early part of your development as an athlete?
My parents have certainly been instrumental in my development as a person, which has had a big influence on me as an athlete. I've also had very good and influential coaches. Despite that, as a whole, my teammates and fellow athletes have been more instrumental in my development as an athlete. They're the ones who really inspire me to work hard because they're doing the same.

3. How were you introduced to your sport and how many other sports did you seriously participate in?
I was introduced to cross country skiing as a family activity. I also participated in the local youth program. I was a serious runner and road cyclist at various times but there was never a conflict in priorities-- I always knew that skiing was my number one sport-- everything else was cross-training for skiing!

4. Is your success a product of nature or nurture?
Both! There are attributes that are certainly genetic but without the encouragement and support of my family, friends & coaches I never would have realized that I had any talent. I would give more weight to nurture as a source of success because in any different setting I almost certainly would have taken up a different pursuit. I was first introduced to skiing and then given continuous opportunities to engage in it and learn.

5. Are you an expert in your field? (by your own definition)
Nope. It seems that I'm always on the cusp of being an expert in skiing, but every time I get close to that my definition of expert changes!