Nor-Ams and the Mind: Internal Battles and Opening Doors
When Lowell Bailey won the 20km individual at the World Championships in Hochfilzen, I couldn't stay inside. My palms had been sweating and I'd been nervously fidgeting, going from standing to sitting to standing, while anxiously cheering Lowell around his final loop (more like obnoxiously yelling at a computer screen) with a handful of biathletes and sliding sports athletes in the OTC cafeteria. Then, just when we thought the gold had slipped from his fingers, Lowell powered into the home straight; we saw the time, and we knew the gold was his! We erupted. I couldn't stay inside. I sprinted out into the fresh air and pumped my fists while I ran around, possessed by the spirit of victory. Lowell opened the door for American biathlon, winning the first ever gold medal at a World Championships or Olympics. Now we don't just know that it is possible to have an American on the podium; we've seen that we can stand on top. So there's no reason to stay inside. We need to get out, put our noses to the grindstone, and train harder than ever to keep pushing through the door that Lowell opened! Three days later we saw Susan Dunklee do just that, shooting clean in a four-stage race (her first time completing that feat) and taking the silver medal. I've witnessed the work-ethic of these individuals this summer - a mere glimpse into their decades-long dedication to biathlon - and the ethic, perseverance, and dedication I've seen is both worthy of achievement and inspiring.
Biathlon Nor-Ams, the small North-American circuit for biathlon competition, are not the most prestigious sporting events in the world, the nation or even biathlon nation (if that's a thing). Nevertheless the Nor-Ams are the best opportunities for the handful of dedicated biathletes scattered across the US and Canada to compete with one another. I had not raced biathlon since early January, so I'd very much been looking forward to the February 11-12 Nor-Am in Jericho, VT and the February 18-19 Nor-Am in Lake Placid, NY.
My gameplan for Jericho started with my mentality. I knew I was in good shape leading up to the race weekend, but the thought of returning to Jericho, doing my morning jogs around the military base, and racing on nearly the same course as the rollerski loop loomed ominously over me. Rollerski racing in Jericho this fall left a bitter taste in my mouth, and my thoughts of racing in Jericho again were negative. Thinking forward to Jericho made me feel swamped, slow, and anxious.
This negative mental state presented a challenge for me: transform my mental image of Jericho from one of anxiety on the range, rigid and tight skiing, and general negativity to one of flow, forward progress, precision, sharp attack, and victory. I spent down moments during my week visualizing feeling smooth on parts of the Jericho race course, possessing courage on the range, and conquering pain as I pushed for the finish line. I also visualized skiing, cross-country running, and track venues that associate in my mind with a sort of internal confidence - unsurprisingly, these are venues where I often performed well. I took the emotion exuded by these "positive" venues and layered them over my race visualizations of Jericho. By the time I toed the start line for Saturday's sprint at Ethan Allen Biathlon, I felt right at home, content, and confident.
My first race at Jericho, the 10km sprint, was definitely my best skiing performance of the year thus far. I missed three shots and took an eternity to shoot (40-43 seconds prone, 58 seconds standing), but skied smooth and hard, more controlled on climbs and more vigrorously attacking transitions than usual. Two inches of fresh snow helped me immensely: my best skis (Salomon cold skis - "blue" - with an LX1 Caldwell Grind) perform best in fresh cold snow, and I tend to perform better in races that are more of a slow grind (which is often the case with fresh snow). When results were posted, I was surprised but excited to see I had won the race, albeit not by much. Sunday's 12.5km pursuit did not go according to plan. Shooting was rough, and skiing felt a little lethargic. It was enough to hold onto third, but I was dissatisfied. (results)
Racing Pink in Jericho
The races in Lake Placid followed a similar theme to those in Jericho: a good effort despite a mistake in prone was enough for a respectable result in the 10km sprint, while abysmal shooting withheld me from putting forth anything resembling respectable in Sunday's pursuit. I missed 9 of 10 in standing shooting, my worst of the year. But, as they say, "that's biathlon". In reflection, there are positives to take away from the weekend. As a competitor encouraged me after the race: focus on execution, not on hits and misses. On the range I felt confident, stable, and controlled but narrowly missed between 10- and 2-o'clock every time. On skis I focused on gaining the full physiological and neuromuscular benefit of the race, pushing myself on skis while maintaining good technique through the finish.
Reuniting with old friends at the Lake Placid Nor-Am #gotigers
Chasing Ethan Dreissigacker from Craftsbury
Zeroing in. The uneven firing line presented a lumpy challenge on the range.
As you may have noticed, I've mentioned mental preparation quite a bit in this blog. For me, mental preparation toward the end of the season has always played a crucial role in my performance. Proper mental preparation has helped me to have success and achieve my goals while a lack thereof has been the root of most of my greatest athletic failures (despite often having the fitness required for achievement). What is best for each individual in terms of mental preparation may be unique, but the preparation should result in a healthy, fresh, engaged mental state, one that is conducive to attacking goals and embracing challenge. For me, the threat of "burnout" is always looming. If my racing season consisted only of skiing and shooting day in and day out, by championship season my mind would not be in attack-goal and embrace-challenge mode! Instead, I thrive on occasional short breaks from the week-to-week racing cycle. For example, the weekend prior to Jericho trials I joined a few friends for three days of hut-to-hut classic skiing in Maine #mainehuts. That was just what I needed to recharge and re-enter attack mode before the Nor-Ams.
Pictures of our #mainehuts adventure from Liam John:
Liam John masters the backpack-tele... "Are you Bill Harmeyer?"
"Yurt" is a fun word to say.
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The races in Jericho and Lake Placid served as trials races for IBU cups 7 and 8 (The IBU cup is sort of like the World Cup's Minor League AAA affiliate). The trials results are determined by calculating an athlete's percent-back statistic for each race and averaging their best three of four races. I was quite lucky: for me this meant that my poor performance in Lake Placid on Sunday was thrown out. My other three races were just enough to earn a start spot for the IBU cups in Kontiolahti, Finland (February 28 - March 5) and Otepaa, Estonia (March 7 - March 12). One of my biggest goals this year was to compete with the best on the IBU cup, and now I get that chance. I'm feeling fit and ready to rip. The shooting has been improving in practice and I know it's only a matter of time before I see that improvement in my racing. By no means is the work done - Lowell and Tim have worked 25 years to get where they are in this sport - so I'm in pursuit of the next level.
My mom came out to visit and watch the races, and I got to celebrate her birthday with her (although I forgot for the first half of the day... don't do that!). I'm really lucky to have parents that support me and respect what I'm striving to do.
