Lahti, Finland

I try to stay in touch with my In The Arena 5th grade class as much as possible when I'm away from the classroom. Here's my latest digital scene from the road for Mr. Peck's class at Osborn Elementary in Leavenworth, Washington.

LAHTI, FINLAND______________________WORLD CUP CROSS-COUNTRY

                                                                                                                                       MARCH 9 &10

The next stop in this year’s cross-country world tour for me is Lahti, Finland. The country of Finland sits between Sweden to the west and Russia to the east. Lahti itself sits just a little outside of Finland’s biggest city, Helsinki. Finland itself, and particularly Lahti, is a place known for its forest and lake landscapes that provide a natural living environment. When I first visited Finland, I could understand better one of my favorite architects, Alvar Aalto.

Mr. Aalvo’s architectural style ranged from nordic classicism during the early years of his career, to later on a more organic modernist style. To me, Mr. Aalvo had a genius way of using a site’s available resources. His buildings and housings could arrest your eyes, but also blend into the environment and terrain where it resided. My favorite thing, though, is how he used sunlight. In Finland, especially in the winter, sunlight is a precious commodity. Mr. Aalvo knew how to capture its essence brilliantly.

It doesn’t a visitor to Lahti long to figure out the place is a winter sports city. Right on the edge of town a full compliment of ski jumps sit atop the area’s biggest hill. As an athlete, the venue is almost a metaphor telling a story. There are all sizes of jumps. Off to the ski jumper’s far right, the jump set starts with perhaps a ten meter in-run, then a half-meter jump where five or six year-olds fly through the air for maybe a half-second.  The granddaddy of them all, though, is the K-124. The athletes fly through the air for around five seconds, covering up to a football field-and-a-half on their winning jumps.

Since 1923 the town and venue has played host to the Lahti Ski Games, an annual World Cup event. Tens of thousands of spectators from near and far come here every March to watch the competitions and revel in the streets and nightclubs afterwards. It’s an energetic crowd – and energy that you can feel as a racer, especially when you are having a special day. And it’s one of these days I look to have on both Saturday in the skate sprint, and on Sunday in the 15 kilometer (9.3 mile) classic World Cup.  I have raced here in Lahti many times, though this will be my first time pulling on a racebib here for something other than an individual sprint or a sprint relay.  To new experiences, and new challenges!

SATURDAY, March 9: Skate Sprint Qualification at 11 AM

SUNDAY, March 10: Men’s 15km Classic at 11 AM

FOR MORE INFORMATION, AND UPDATES: www.lahtiskigames.com

Scenes from the Road: Davos, Switzerland Edition

Sometimes the sun out, your friends are with you, and the scene is just right. Sometimes you can have one of those days while skiing the Dischma Valley in Davos, Switzerland. Today was one of those days. Here Mauro and Bettina Gruber strike a pose where the nordic grooming ends and the off-piste skiing begins. The snow isn't quite right for crust-cruising yet, but when it is, going for a little langlaufing up-and-down the Dischma is out of this world.

Bettina getting her flowing classic stride on the bootpacked track. After yesterday's challenging double-pole only intensity session with another Swiss World Cup skier, relaxing on skis and moving with the least amount of effort as possible was the goal of the morning ski.

I think a shot like this could almost be an advertisement for Rossignol skis. A river ran through it. And I skied it. A lot. Both with rollerskiing and on-snow, I have spent more than a couple hours training up this valley this year.

Four foxes, hanging out in the sun. I think they've seen better days, though. One satiating thing about spending time in Europe is how certain means of production are still carried the old school way in the Old World.

Dry cured meat like these hunks of speck are another area where time combined with the touch of tradition produce some culinary delights.

Next stop - Lahti, Finland! I'm sure there will be a story or two to tell from the land of saunas, lakes and  ski jumps and ski trails.

And you know Pearli will be on tour with me there as well - as he comes along everywhere. Here he takes in the first light of the day in the Trentino region of Italy. While here, Pearli got to check out his orchard fruit competition from Europe. This arena of Europe is home to the most renowned apples and pears and some of the finest wines of Europe. Pearli thinks, though, that the trees back in Peshastin, and areas like that back home still are the best in the world.

La Morte del Sogno

The women's final, moments before the start.

La morte del sogno, in homage to the terme where the dream came to die. Usually the death to a dream is a sad affair, a cautionary tale. On the ski trails of Lago di Tesoro arena, beside the village of Val di Fiemme in the northern Italian region of Trentino tears might have been shed, emotions might have overflowed. But from what I saw and what I heard they were the joyful kind. For the first time America stood atop the podium at the World Ski Championships. Ever. That's some pretty desirable real estate. The view must be quite nice from up there.

It's a dream many Americans have chased, and are chasing, myself included. All you can do is tip your hat in appreciation to what Kikkan Randall and Jessica Diggins were able to accomplish in the team sprint event. February twenty-fourth, two-thousand-thirteen marked the end of a dream, and one that will be remembered in the history books.

Men's semifinal number one.

An old coach wrote, saying he had already watched the race over and over. The result, he said, was  always the same - Jessie handing off to Kikkan with the lead, Kikkan leaving nothing in doubt, crossing 7.8 seconds in front of second. And every time, big old tears ran down the old coach's face. Even cowboys can cry.

***

The day before, I raced a European Cup (OPA Cup) Sprint in Hirschau, Germany. My friend Martin Jaeger put up the best time of the day. I was second. After not feeling fresh or having much of any snap since coming across the Atlantic a couple weeks ago, two days before I had that little feeling that I was back. Now I have the confirmation. The stoke is burning hot for the springtime ski racing scene.

Driving to the race early that morning, I was thinking back eight years, almost to the day, and the European Cup sprint in Oberstdorf, Germany. Eight years previous, I was in perhaps the shape of my life. Unfortunately I could not hold it, picking up a nasty case of bronchitis in the hills of Seiser Alm, Italy just days before the 2006 Torino Olympics. From my experience, having top shape to tipping over is the sharpest of an edge. Eight years ago, I won that European Cup, driving hard on the hardest climbs and breaking the field apart. Today might not have been quite that good, but... but... I see the way to the top.

Hop skating in Oberstdorf, with my then-teammate Andrew Newell chasing.

It's a nice state to be in. With very few exceptions - maybe Dario Cologna or Kikkan or Jessie Diggins feel differently - but I'd say there is more heartbreaks than breakthroughs in elite sport. Not that there is anything wrong with this, it's just part-and-parcel to the process. And with my apologies to the hokey-pokey, working hard and enjoying this process is what it's all about.

Where it all got started.

Grüezi

Just over a week ago, it was time to say gruezi to the little city Davos in the Swiss Alps. Since coming over it's been the cycle of train, eat, then try and sleep to the tune of the European clock. Everyday in this regard gets better and better.

This weekend, Leinzerheide, another nearby mountain hamlet, hosted the Swiss National Championships. The racing format was a 15 kilometer skate (~10mile) followed by a 15 kilometer classic hunting-style pursuit race. After the skate race, I sat in 18th. By the end of the event, I crossed the line 10th. Three Swiss, two Kazaks, one Swede, and three Americans (Noah Hoffman, Erik Bjoernsen, Tad Elliott) in town for the final preparations before the World Championships made it to the finishline before me. All in all, a pretty decent way to start off the European racing campaign.

Until the next time...

A Clean Pair of Heals

Charging hard up the infamous Hermod's Hill with a national 30km title on the line. My club coach Dragan Danevski  cheers along trailside, telling me to keep putting the pressure on my pursuers.

Since the last time writing here it's been a bit of a whirlwind of racing. Four races in seven days on the trails of Soldier Hollow, Utah (venue of the 2002 Winter Olympics) included more national titles ( two, in the 30km and the classic sprint) than broken skis (one, in the skate race). I think for a successful week of racing one must always be in the over category of this distinction. 

Another shot from the race action. Digging.

After nationals, I had a brief five day respite back to Washington. This meant two days back in the classroom with Mr. Peck's 5th graders. As this was the last time I would see them until probably until April, it was a good time to reconnect with the class. Until then, postcards, letters and photos from the road will have to do. 

Next time in class, instead of shoveling snow pits or measuring  the acidity of  rain water, I imagine we will be out hunting wildflowers like this trillium with the 5th graders. 2012 file photo.

This week, I cracked open an old favorite. The book's corners are soft, white and fraying a bit from the years. But the story and the words inside are still so spot-on, Once a Runner by John L. Parker Jr. still holds undisputed spot as best sports-themed book ever. At least according to me. 

Consider this conversation between the book's two main protagonists, the elder Bruce Denton conversing with the young rube Quenton Cassidy:

“That quarter mile oval may be one of the few places in the world where the bastards can’t screw you over, Quenton. That’s because there’s no place to hide out there. No way to fake it or charm your way through, no deals to be made. You know all that stuff. You’ve talked about it. It’s why you became a miler. The question is whether you are prepared to live by it or whether it was just a bunch of words.”

After five days of racing the Minne-Tour in the Twin Cities of Minnesota, I was able to hold my hand up high as the overall champion. There was a lot of great competition with close finishes. Fortunately, I found myself on the podium steps everyday, crossing the line first on two occasions, second twice, and third once. I think this consistency shows I'm on the right track.

Having been born in the Twin Cities, I still have plenty of family and friends in the Midwest. Here is part of the contingent that made it out to the races Sunday. It was really cool too see so many uncles and aunts and cousins while out racing through the serpentine trails of Theodore Wirth Park.

Viel spass!

View from the... Home: Wenatchee Valley Edition

The view from the lake up to Glacier View after the epic December dump. Lake Wenatchee, Washington. For two days, I was trapped up here with no electricity or water with impassible roads. This little experience made me think of when Hurricane Sandy hit the Eastern seaboard.

The Cascade Mountains trapped within the horizon of the passing clouds.  One 48 hour storm brought 6 feet of snow to the base of Stevens Pass. This made for some epic alpine powder days, but wreaked havoc to the surrounding communities. Power has been out for 10 days and counting to Lake Wenatchee, Plain, and Chumstick Canyon. When outside, you can hear trees snapping under the weight of the snows. The sound is not unlike a muzzle-loader hunter hitting his target. A short, sharp explosion of tree fibers snapping, followed by the rush of timber falling down through the forest that reminds me of a deer dashing through the woods with it's last few breaths of life. 

                                   

Being home means reconnecting with the old hometown ski club. These days, I race for the Bridger Ski Foundation out of Bozeman, Montana, but I got my start - and still talk to my Leavenworth coaches frequently - from the old neighborhood. Here I got to do a little stride, glide, and double pole with the high school age crew. At the end, Shane Wilder from IcicleTV came out and caught a little bit of the action. You can see Mr. Wilder's work from the little impromptu session here. 

With so many trees falling, and 3,800 people directly affected,  the County and the Public Utility District have been working overtime, bigtime. Here,  a helicopter tries to "shake" out the snow from the overburdened pine tree. You know when public agencies are resorting to practices like these, they are doing all they can to alleviate the situation. A neighbor two houses away was not fortunate. Two giant Douglas Firs came crashing down onto their roof, crushing the structure. 

                                   

In just a couple day's time, it's off to Salt Lake City Airport I go for the US National Cross-Country Championships. I imagine you can check back here for a personal update when the show comes to an end. Races are scheduled for the 2nd, 4th, 6th, and 8th of January.

                                   

Belly of the Whale

Snowy scene at Lake Wenatchee

Indian "Summer" days in the city of Wenatchee.

After the racing season got off to a slow start due to some upper respiratory infection, I made it back to Central Washington. It's must be something about sleeping back in familiar territory, but the health is coming back strong. After a couple days of running in the foothills of Wenatchee and rollerskis along the mighty Columbia, I headed up to the parent's cabin in the Cascades to get on the real stuff. 

Fortunately, winter has recently arrived in the Northwest's mountains. Nearly two feet of the dense "Cascade Cement" fell from the heavens yesterday, with another foot or so on it's way tomorrow. It is so cool to see such big, monster-sized flakes falling from the sky, and feel a part of such a monster storm.   With the nordic center up at Stevens Pass up and running right now, I have a great venue to get back on snow and seek the good tidings -  and technique and timing of cross-country skiing.

The 5th Graders back in Mr. Peck's class were psyched on their early Christmas present - Toblerone chocolate straight from it's source from across the Atlantic. At twelve pounds of solid triangular Swiss chocolate, honey, and almond nougat, I knew this would be a winner with the young lads and ladies.  It's definitely an added bonus to get to spend a little extra time in the classroom.