Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold,
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not!
(Author unknown)
When I first started cross country skiing, I think I experienced just enough of the fine weather conditions to get hooked. To be sure, skiing smoothly over firm snow on a cool day under a blazing blue sky is the best thing in the world. Shortly thereafter, however, I experienced weather that was far from kind. This was up at Mt Washington several years ago (yes, I've only be cross country skiing for several years). An alpine storm had set in; the wind compelled one to personify, and so I shall say it howled angrily. Visibility was next to nil, and frequently I went flying off the would-be trail and down steep embankments into the trees. My glasses kept fogging up and I thought if I removed them it might improve how much of my surroundings I discerned. No such luck. The wind drove the icy snowflakes painfully into my eyes, and I was forced to return to my completely fogged up glasses.
Since then, I've experienced similarly stormy days, and two years ago I completed a Biathlon mass start in the rain. I used to complain about the weather before realizing that, damn, I can't do anything about it! Consequently, what good is it to complain when all this does is further exacerbate the one's dark mood? Something else that helped was watched the World Cup races. Years ago I saw Helena Ekholm shoot perfect in crazy foggy conditions during a race. Of course Oberhof is also notorious for their terrible weather. If you don't believe me, watch some of the races and you will see athletes struggling in fog, rain, and terribly course conditions. Strangely, the Oberhof fans seem to be the most ardent out there!
Anyway, watching the gods of Biathlon battle it out in wretched conditions instilled within me a more sincere appreciation for the focus, determination, and resilience it takes to weather the weather. No one likes to be out in the nastiness, but we still have to do whatever we can under the circumstances. Durchalten.
Like many Biathlon fans, I was totally crushed today to discover the women's individual race in Östersund had been cancelled due to high winds and sleet. It wasn't just that I was looking forward to watching this race all day long, faithfully avoiding any websites or social media sites where the results might be spoiled. More so, this tragedy brought to the fore the fragility of Biathlon, and any other sport dependent upon the weather.
Due to a lack of precipitation on the West Coast (often called the Wet Coast), Whistler Olympic Park has been closed; the opening weekend at Mt Washington (my local mountain) has also been delayed. What does this mean? Well, it means not only will I not be able to train on snow before the first BC Cup Biathlon race in Whistler, but further, the only competition I can afford to get to might be cancelled altogether! Unlike last year's World Cup Biathlon competition in Annecy le Grand Bornand, there is no possibility of relocating a humble BC Cup to another location with snow.
What now? What indeed? What do you do when you plan for an entire year to race, spend thousands of dollars on equipment, make other sacrifices, only to discover that the only competition available to you is cancelled? Well, you ask yourself some hard questions.
The existential crisis that results from such a Biathlon-related trauma causes one to question the very foundation of their life - whether such a life has meaning, purpose or value. Why not walk down the street and grab a six pack of beer? Why not take up a cheaper sport and save thousands of dollars? Why not stop torturing myself with these relentless trials of the soul?
Ah, I wish it were as easy as drinking several pints of beer and then going to the store in the morning and buying a squash racquet. It's not that easy; in fact, it's not an option at all. (Firstly, anyone who drops Biathlon to play squash is a borderline psychopath). During such challenging times, one's love is truly tested. Many relationships end at the first sign of trouble, or when someone more attractive comes along. If that relationship is based on anything less than love, it is only a matter of time before a fateful trial will undo the so-called love.
When I first saw that newspaper photograph of Ole Einar years ago, my imagination was captured. When I first shot a Biathlon rifle, there was no turning back. Since then, I've found myself wishing the path were easier. I wish Biathlon were cheaper; I wish I could race every weekend, and I wish the wankers at Biathlon BC didn't do such a fine job of killing the sport. However, I'm in it now, and truly believe this is the best sport in the world.
No one said life was going to be easy, and Biathlon is no exception. There will always be steep hills to climb, time spent in the penalty loop, and a myriad of logistical set-backs. However, there will also always be Biathletes who rise above these set-backs to provide shining examples of what makes this sport truly great. And there will be moments when we, too, will experience the things that brought us to the sport - a great shooting score, obtaining a new top race result, or skiing on those dreamlike, sunny days.
Maybe I no longer have a competition to look forward to this year, but I'm still going to go out and put in 20 km of roller skiing tonight by headlamp, and when I get back I'll put in some time completing my scheduled dry fire practice session. Tomorrow, with any luck, the bloody hurricane in Östersund will have found something better to do and we'll be treated to not one, but two fine races.
A shot from the top of the Far East trail at Mt Washington. I just had to include this to remind myself
what I look forward to. Never lose the vision; never lose the dream.
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