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Three weeks ago, I skied the trails of Soldier Hollow by the light of a crisp, full moon. The air was cold. There were deer everywhere. Perhaps they were excited by the lunar pull. As my skis glided over the snow and ice, through the sagebrush and grass that make up most of Soldier Hollow’s landscape, I kept looking at the moon. The Native Americans kept time by the moon. I keep place by it. Wherever I go, it is always there, always changing, just as I am always traveling.
During that ski, I kept thinking that, by the next full moon, I either will have reached my goal of qualifying for the Olympic Team, or be questioning myself why I did not. But because the moon rising over the Heber Valley was so stunning, and skiing around the venue that last hosted Nordic sports of the Olympic Games was so peaceful, my thoughts were completely positive. I knew that at this exact place, I had worked so hard to improve, so many long hours of training alone, often questioning myself if I was doing enough and the right things.
I also thought about the good people whom I had met and had supported me so that I could enjoy that moonlight ski. The two families a few miles away in Heber came to mind first since I could almost pick out the light of their house in the valley. But so too did the good people thousands of miles away in Minnesota, Vermont, Maine, and even Norway that supported me. I realized that this long journey from Bloomington, Minnesota to this moment, skiing under the moon at Soldier Hollow – how many moons is that? nearly one hundred? – was not just about reaching an athletic goal, it was about experiencing, learning from, and enjoying the world and its wonderful people.
So, looking up at the now quarter moon, this is the defining moment I will remember for many years to come. After returning to Maine on December 19, I forgot all about the Olympic Team and my results goals. Once I landed, I promised myself not to get involved in the rat race of qualifying, but to just do my best in each of the four competitions.
This evening was the first time I looked at results or qualifying lists. Of course, each day I heard what place I was, but I was more concerned about my ski times and shooting than other competitors – that is what it means to “race your own race.” It would be an understatement to write that I was self-absorbed… My mind reached a state where the only things that existed were the shooting range, the ski course, a few essential staff members (including my parents), the television show Law & Order, my equipment, and me. Oh, and the weather changed every day, but I could not control it, so it played a “supporting” role.
Yesterday afternoon, it took me nearly all day before I emerged from my self-induced focus. I felt like a telescope that was zoomed in on the wool fibers of a sweater from thousands of miles away, my mind ached from the over-focus just as much as someone’s eyes would viewing that fiber. So it was not in my field of vision for many hours that I had qualified for the Olympic Team. That fact is still blurry, not yet entirely visible to me.
Certainly, it will mean an awful lot, once I can see it all. Many years ago, maybe in 2000, at age 16, just after my first season in biathlon, I wrote out a goal sheet with steps towards winning an Olympic medal. I have climbed more or less all of the steps up until “Qualify for the Olympic Team in 2006.” Now that I have climbed up onto that step, there lies a huge staircase – maybe at this level, it turns into a vertical scramble up a granite wall – stretching eight years into the future that is far more daunting than the past six years have been. It makes the past seem easy, for there is so much more training and improving that I need to do in order to win an Olympic medal. But I am 22, and there is still time.
That staircase will be there for me to tackle starting in the spring. I am a planner and confident that I can create a plan that will take me up to that goal, provided I secure the coaching, financial, and social support to do so. Now, two World Cups, an Olympic Games, European Championships, and other competitions lie ahead for this season. All of the training that I have done over the past nine months – and seven years –will be enough to make this season even more memorable than it already has become.
Though this journey was been mostly on my own, the way that I like it, there have been a number of people who have supported and believed in me. Please consider reading the Supporters and Sponsors section. Despite all odds, my individual nature, and counsel from others that suggested it might not be a good idea, these people and companies have stuck with me. And finally, thank you so much to my parents, who not only waited on me all day, every day, for the past 11 days, but have also loved me regardless of what happens.
Peace,
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