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Last night, my teammate Tracy Barnes and I watched last season’s World Cup mass start race from Antholz, Italy, in which Raphael Poirée of France hit all twenty out his targets in very tricky wind conditions. Of course, he won the race due to his fast skiing, too. Inspired by that performance, I started the mass start race here in Valcartier.
The start was as I predicted. Every athlete went as fast as they possibly could, even if it meant ignoring the athletes in front of them. Some fell. Maybe a few broke some poles. But I sat in the back of the field for the first kilometer, letting these over-ambitious athletes play amongst themselves. I knew that I was just about the fastest skier in the race, but that the first loop was not where the race would be won. The race depended almost entirely on shooting.
After about a kilometer, I started revving the engine up and passing the athletes, who were feeling the consequences of starting far too fast. I moved into the top five with ease and entered the range with confidence. Because numerous different mass start races were being held at the same time for different categories, we were allowed to choose our own shooting points during the race. Thus, I scoped out each mat to find the one that was the most level even before the start. This certainly helped me hit all five of my prone targets in the first stage.
This race was rather dramatic for me since I had no idea where I was placed. There was no coach on the trail telling me what place I was in, and because the course has many turns, it is nearly impossible to tell if someone is in front of you. In most mass start races, it is easy to tell what place you are in because when you enter the shooting range, the winner shoots on point one, second place shoots on point two, and so on. But because we could shoot on whichever point we wanted to, I had absolutely no idea what place I was in.
In yesterday’s race, the first and second place finishers hit all ten of their targets, so when I was leaving the range after the first shooting today, they very well could have hit all five of their targets and left before me. I just didn’t know.
On the second loop, I was still skiing conservatively because I knew the race would be a long one. Before the shooting range, a little Canadian came up behind me on an uphill and started stepping on my poles. I wasn’t too distracted, but I did have an urge to accidentally miss a pole plant and swing my pole wide. I hit all five of my prone targets again and left the range in first place.
I began to realize that I might be winning by a good margin when I was on the third loop. Because my plan was to just race for myself and shoot as best I could, I did not spend much time looking around or worrying about it. I entered the range, still confident, but even more focused. The approach to the range is difficult – a short and steep uphill. I missed my first shot, most likely because my breathing had not yet recovered, but I was able to hit the remaining four.
Now I knew that I was in first place. I continued to ski consistently and conservatively, as I had on the previous loop. I’m not quite sure at this point where my thoughts went to, but I am guessing there was some arrogance, believing that I could miss a few targets and still win. Of course, this belief turned out to be wrong. I missed four of my shots in the final shooting stage.
On my first penalty loop, I watched the skiers who were behind me enter the range. With every penalty loop, I saw them in the range, finish shooting, enter the penalty loop, and then leave. I left the penalty loop after 600 meters in fourth place, maybe five seconds down to third.
You would think that after having skied conservatively over the previous twelve kilometers that I would certainly have more than enough energy to make up five seconds in the final three kilometers. So did I. Somehow, I just couldn’t get my body to understand that it had to go. It seemed to be saying, “Just wait to make your move on the next uphill.” What I really had to do was ski fast on the entire loop, not just one hill, to catch third place. When I finally got going, it was too late. Third place looked like he was falling apart, but I just couldn’t get my skis to move fast enough.
I finished fourth and learned two very good lessons: don’t blow up on the final shooting stage and never overestimate the distance you have to pass someone. Make the move early.
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