Even as I write this I still do not  have feeling in half of my fingers.  Welcome to winter I guess!  Looks like I ought to double-check my spelling today, I keep hitting the wrong keys.  Numb numb numb.

This weekend was a whirlwind in so many ways.  The weather.  The skiing, the shooting, and all the emotions that go with being a racer.  Highs that make you nearly giddy and your face hurt because your grin could rip your face in two.  …and lows that make the inside of your body ache because you can’t see the big picture anymore.

It’s just a race.  Just a season.  But every athlete knows (or atleast will discover) it’s so very easy to forget that your self-worth is not dependent on the outcome of a race.

After all of us faced a humorously frustrating sprint day in the wind on Friday, looking forward to Saturday’s race felt easy.  For the first time this year I felt the unrelenting urge to chase down every single women starting in front of me.  Just like Lilly, no reason not to just go catch to the next one… just because you can.

It was cold.  I couldn’t feel my hands.  During prone I might as well of had hooves.  Breathe, Breathe, take a good shot.  Back to my old form in prone, I only missed 1 out of 10.  Even in standing I can now feel myself in control.  I don’t have to cross my fingers and hope a target goes down.  I know it will.  and I like that feeling.  I managed to hit 6 out of 10 in standing, a huge improvement over my races in December.  Skiing wasn’t too bad either.  I could feel the crud trying to settle on the top of my lungs, but I did my best to hold it together.  It was a good weekend of… trying not to drown.  Success?

It wasn’t my best day on skis.  It wasn’t my day on the range.  But sometimes good results come from ok performances. In the end.  I won the pursuit.  My first win as a Senior.  And it felt good.

At this point racing was starting to take a toll on me.  My mucus and I are in this epic battle of , “No I was here first!”  And I was losing.

With the temperatures plummeting well below 0F and not looking like they wanted to warm up any time soon my dwindling health that I had fought hard for all week became a priority.  After consulting with the Women’s head coach and the US team doctor we decided sitting out of the mass start was in my best interest I headed back across the lake to New York.  Where I virtually held my breath waiting for the ICC to announce their nominations for the U26/Euro Championships team….

Well. I wasn’t on it.  I quickly became a wild mixture of crushed and furious.  Fighting the urge to cry, laugh, and kick things simultaneously.  I’m still fighting that urge.

I know there is little I can do besides keep my chin up.  But its moments like these when you have to search really hard for the good things and hang on to them… because it’s so easy to drown when you forget how to tread water.

Ok I’m no scientist… but I have a feeling gale force winds is exactly what we saw today on the range.

After not making it out of Lake Placid yesterday due to some… wintery conditions.  I hit the road bright and early this morning with the ambition of making it to the first race of North American Championships on time.  It rained until I hit the ferry to Vermont.  The sun came up, the rain stopped.  I sighed a breath of relief that we would have ideal conditions for this mornings sprint race.

Boy was I wrong.

As I pulled into the race parking lot the wind picked up.  And never relented.

The positive?  Everyone was going to struggle on the shooting range today.  You can’t fight the wind.  No matter how hard it pushes you around.  You just sort of have to give into it.  And in many of my fellow competitors cases today… hope something goes down.  Even if it wasn’t the target you were aiming at.

I found myself laughing when I left the shooting mat during zero.  “Honestly!?” I thought.  “This is insane!”  With wind gusts similar to what my team mates saw in Germany last week all I could do is shake my head and hope like any true biathlete…. “Maybe the wind will die down?”  Wishful thinking.

Prone went smoothly.  I was patient and waited out too little gusts, but left the range with only one penalty and feeling pretty good about how things were going.  Standing…man alive, now that is a different story.  The wind was gusting so hard.  I had been told to wait.  To hold out.  To not rush… and so I did just that.  In vain.  Only to leave my mat and slog around the penalty loop over and over again.  Ouch.

Turns out my shooting was pretty much parr for the course today.  Crazy.  But the precious time I wasted hoping I could apparently somehow will the wind to die down… dropped me down the results list.

Skiing went ok.  But going on day 6 of 10 on antibiotics showed a little bit over the course of the race.  Struggling to maintain any semblance of energy and spunk over the last couple kilometers…

But I learned something today.  Sometimes its better to cut your losses and run than try and weather the storm.

Yes the snot rocket.  A handy tool that once mastered will make your cold weather activities more enjoyable and earn you some serious trail cred.  Come on, you can’t tell me the cold weather doesn’t make your nose drip.

So whats the best way to dispel that exorbitant amount of snot threatening to steadily drip from your nostrils?

The Snot Rocket.

It’s easy enough.  After checking the wind and double (yes do it twice) checking where your team mates are you may now attempt to dislodge your snot.  It’s simple really.  Cover a nostril with your thumb or finger and then blow.   I like to use my thumb… sort of using my hand as a spray shield. Ok I know, I never said this was going to make you look pretty!

You might need a little courtesy wipe, sleeves and gloves are both acceptable.  Some times you just have to tidy up your face a little bit.  Because lets face it no matter how great your legs look or how musclebound (or extra skinny for you biking types) your arms are, being speckled with your own snot is not well… glamorous.

‘the only time you may be covered in your own snot (and I suppose slober) is during a race… this however will be corrected once you regain consciousness’

Now before I let you go blow snot where ever you please there are some additional ground rules:

You WILL do your best to not blow snot on yourself or anyone else

Although ‘the snot rocket’ should generally be reserved for use only during physical activity, you may discretely use it in SEMI-public places.

I use the term ‘semi’ rather loosely as the appropriate vs inappropriate locations for snot-rocketing has come under much discussion…  Just ask yourself next time you go to dispense your snot, “Is this totally inappropriate right now?”  If you find yourself hesitate at all you should probably stop.

Snot Rocket at your own risk.

Here’s a little tib-bit for you high school athletes… Using the snot rocket on the start line of a cross country running or track race gives you major intimidation points.  Fully tested and Corrine approved.

Disclaimer: 
If for whatever reason you read this and begin to question your ability to properly blow your nose… I say to you. Buck up buttercup!  Blow your nose you wild winter animal!

If not I will personally safety pin a hanky to your mitten you grandma.

 

Who inspires you?

Of course there is no right answer… or rather no ONE answer.

I know this is going to sound super cheesy (feel free to roll your eyes)… but the people that inspire me the most are often the kids I get to work with.

This past weekend I got to help out with NYSEF’s paintball biathlon event.  We had racers as young as 6 years old!  Out east they have a special age group for kids 6 and under, they call them “lollipop races” and every finisher gets, yes you guessed it, a lollipop!

Well we had one little lollipop racer on Saturday.  Lillian, but she said I could call her Lilly.  She got to wear bib number one and was stoked!  She waddled up to me in her pink snow suit, pink fleece neck warmer up to her nose, and a hat that looked like a raccoon.  I knew we were going to get along just fine.  I told her I would ski the whole race with her and she replied “You better ski fast!”

She classic skied the whole thing without poles, no complaining, only laughing and lots of little ‘whoops’ when she would fall over.  But she would pop right back up and we would take off again.  It was snowing and windy.  She waved across the stadium area to her Dad who cheered us on from a distance.

They sent the kids out one at a time so the range wouldn’t be too congested and when Lilly saw another skier in front of us she insisted we try to catch them!  Alright!  We cruised as fast as her little legs would take us.  All smiles.

I got a hug and a high five and she got her pick of  the lollipops.  But more than that I got to watch her (and many other kids) enjoy racing.  Enjoy skiing.  Enjoy a little sweat.  Their enthusiasm is contagious.  I see these kids totally in love with a sport that took me so long to find and I can’t help but share their joy!  When I’m racing this upcoming weekend I’ll think about them and how much fun skiing is.  I’ll think about Lilly wanting to catch the big kids.  And I will be all smiles and laughs.  Like Lilly said, “Its ok if we are a little sweaty right now, we will be at the finish soon.”

After a morning ski that ended in the rain (thank you new england) I knew just what I wanted.  Hot tea, warm food, and some quality snuggling.

A little cell phone journalism for you all.  Stay warm!

As my coaches and team mates trickled back over to Europe I found myself once again. Alone.

So this morning I got bundled up.  Seriously bundled up. (that’s right a star spangled moron) Dug my car out.  Scarped every inch of ice off the big green beast, and slowly (with large amounts of force) was able to get each of the doors open.

The engine turned over miraculously and we crawled out of the park lot.

Hot thermos of tea in hand (or rather mitten) I arrived at the range.  Oh right, yeah I have a itty bitty upper respiratory tract infection.  Can’t catch a break.

Looking very coach-esque in my red white and blue from head to toe  I bumbled around the range.  Dragging mats, plugging in targets, moving rifle racks, painting targets, stapling paper, hammering wind flags into the frozen tundra ground, bumble bumble bumble. Around and around.

High five coach Corrine.

Skiing felt good.  Of course they didn’t start grooming until 3/4’s of the way through my workout. Awkward, sorry snowmobile dudes, but apparently this is how you do things around here.

Shooting went well. Fast, calm, and smooth.  Master of the wind!!!

High five athlete Corrine.

I know I can manage myself.  I know I can ‘get the job done’.  But no matter how much fun I was having doing celebration dances by myself, I know success feels so much better when you get to share it with others.

No we aren’t in preschool and we’ve run out names to call that kid you say smells funny but you secretly have a crush on…

Nordork is simply my way of labeling things that are both nordic related and also incredibly dorky.

For example if you can tolerate, heck, perhaps even admit enjoying/not minding that hour you spent on a ski erg yesterday afternoon….  You are definitely a nordork.  (that or a masterblaster, which by default also makes you a nordork)

What else might make you a nordork you ask?  Well…

If you own more lycra than ‘normal people’ clothing you might be a nordork.

Amendment: or you spend more time in lycra than the formentioned ‘normal people’ clothing.  Who doesn’t enjoy living in tights.  They’re comfy.  And so well fitted.

If you follow proper ‘snot rocket-ing’ etiquette (more on that later) you might be a nordork.  That or you just enjoy easily dispensing snot.  Don’t kid yourself, its cold, you can’t tell me your nose doesn’t get runny.

You own a pair of NEOs…  If you don’t know what those are.  You are safe. You are not a nordork.

If you own a ‘snow shield’.  You aren’t Petter Northug, you just look like that guy from star trek.

You even like your underwear swedish. (um hello Bjorn Borg)  Scandinavia Scandinavia Scandinavia. Blah blah blah.

You own buffs. Lots of buffs.  You might even own enough buffs to color coordinate your outfits!  (If you care that much you might not be dorky enough)

If and when you decide to wear head to toe adidas national team apparel outside of a world cup venue you might look like a star spangled moron.  I’ve done it.  Its both fun and embarrassing, and oh so tempting…

Lets see what else?

Oh yes.  Your skis are worth more than your car.  I don’t even own classic race skis… what does that say about my car?

You know who qualified for the sprint heats this morning in Rumford.   Noooordork!

You read FasterSkier, SkinnySki, TeamToday (or whatever they’re called now), and  you get JohnnyKlister’s jokes, jabs, and other nordic themed commentary.

Celebrate New Years?  As if.  We know you rang it in early (come on midnight is so past your bedtime) from your couch drinking something un-brewed, distilled, or fermented.

You like to throw around terms like swing weight, rotobrush, NIS key, and anaerobic threshold.

You’re contemplating adding structure to your skis.

You wake up early to either follow the (awful) live results from FIS, the ibu data center, or watch races streamed live from EuroSport (which you might have bought a subscription to) or BiathlonWorld.

You can be heard talking about ‘hot-boxing’, OD’s and LSD…. but none are in reference to drugs.

You travel absurd distances to get on snow, even if it is only a small man made loop.  Desperate nordork.

You spend more money on wax than you do on food.  This is only more amazing knowing how much you probably eat.

Ok enough of this nonsense.  You are probably a nordork.  Especially if you actually read all of this.

*Note:  I only tease.  After all I can make fun of my own kind.

After spending three weeks back in the grand old “Land of the Bland” I figure you all deserve a little insight to the homeland.  The great Northern MidWest.

So here you are, my observations.  Enjoy.

If you do not play Hockey there might be something wrong with you.  Seriously wrong with you.

You are allowed to cheer for the Vikings, Bears, or the Packers.  But you will be a passionate super fan, it is all or nothing.  No fair weather fans.  This includes owning anything and everything with your favorite team on it… clothing, vanity plates, furniture, christmas lights, lawn ornaments, speciality foods, and so on.  Oh and it is encouraged to ridicule and tease ( any time any place) anyone who supports another team.

For instance:
You:  “Did you hear about the tornado in the twin cities?”
Them:  “No what?”
You:  “Yeah everyone sought shelter in the Vikings’ end zone!  There hasn’t been a touch down there in years!”

Or.
You: “Did you hear Chicago just became the murder capital of the US!?”
Them: “No way!?!!?”
You:  “Yeah!  The Bears get slaughtered there every week!”

Bad.  I know.

They just love to idle their cars.  Its not even that cold out!

Function comes before fashion. Always.  You are going to earn more compliments on your carhartt jacket.  Thank goodness for fleece lined jeans and bogs (yes those insulated waterproof boots that come in pretty colors).

You bring your ‘food list’ to the ‘food store’. duh.

Your brother gets a rifle for Christmas.  He is the last one in the family to own a rifle.

Ice fishing (or occasionally spearing).  But not out in the cold of course.  No no you fish from the comfort of your ice fishing shack.  Some complete with carpeting and couches.  Decked out with christmas lights and lawn chairs. Tis the season.

Midwest skiers are not ashamed of their poor spandex choices.  Man are there some bold skiers!  Oh and let me tell you, they still snowplow with the best of them!  Great form.

Trucks.  And if you drive one normal parking rules just do not apply to you.

Oh and shorts over your spandex?  Really!?  Just wear pants if you aren’t bold enough to wear your spanx proudly.  You bring bad memories of awkward high school male cross country runners.

Saying the G’s at the ends of words is completely optional.  It’s all huntin and fishin.  It’s all the same.

But seriously…. I love all of it.  Sometimes it makes me laugh.  Sometimes I can’t help but roll my eyes, just a little.  But its been home for so long, and has a very special place in my heart.

And its true.  We are just the gosh darn nicest people you’ll ever meet!

Happy New Year!!!

I’ve been sneaking my skis into the earlier hours of the morning this week.  I’m a bit of a morning person.   Mornings are quite.  Personal.  I like my mornings that way.

And so I head out to the trails early.  And they are quite.  And I like my trails that way.

Atleast they start that way.  I spent a good part of yesterday’s ski dodging Minnesota high school skiers who apparently have never skied on a two-way trail ever… And although traffic flow was a foreign concept to them it was really cool to see so many kids out enjoying some wobbly kilometers on snow.

Every day when I arrive at the trail head parking lot its empty.  (Apparently 10am is the normal ski time these days)  However, this morning was different!   I arrived at OO to find an assortment of skibarus and wagons.   I had happened upon the annual ‘Double Birkie’.  Yes that’s right, Double.  And it’s exactly that, go out, grin and ski the whole Birkie trail twice.   It’s not exactly an official event but it happens every year no matter how good or how bad the snow may be.  This year it was truly a core group of diehard master skiers from around the area.  I skied up ready to explore the southern Birkie trails and found myself in great company.  We skied south until we ran out of snow and then headed back north towards Telemark.  I didn’t stick around for the whole thing but having their company for 3 hours was great.

So even though I didn’t have the trails to myself this morning I didn’t mind the company.  Let’s just say I practiced a little pack skiing this morning, avoided any wipe outs, and met some really wonderful people.

Thanks Guys!