First half successI recently came home from 6 weeks in Europe where we competed in Austria, Italy and Spain on the World Cup and Europa Cup circuits. I have been working hard the entire lead up to the season, and my focus this year was quite simple: get on the podium in a World Cup race. Consistency day in and day out wasn’t really a huge concern, as to win, you need to push your limits, and when pushing the limits you tend to make a lot of mistakes. In skiing, no matter what the outcome, I always feel better about myself and my effort if I’m pushing my own limits, regardless of how many errors I make. If I ski safely, and get to the bottom, I might get a decent result, but I will rarely be satisfied with it as I know I didn’t truly give it my all. To get on the podium, I need to give it my all. If I make errors and the podium doesn’t happen then so be it, but the one day when I keep it clean, I’m confident I will achieve what I’m looking for.
This is all really easy to say and write about, but it is amazing how difficult it is to do when race day comes. I’ve written repeatedly about keeping it simple, breathing, relaxing and having confidence in the process over the years, but for some reason when race day comes, I always want to do more. If I could just be a little more focused, or a little more warmed up. If I could see something in the course others don’t or push just a little harder out of the start. If I did exactly 2 warm up runs, and skied just a certain way, that would be the ticket. It is astounding how many thoughts can go through your mind when race day comes, and it is even more astounding how quickly a well laid out plan can be completely forgotten or “improved” upon at the very last minute. Questioning yourself is a part of life, but add to it the pressure of a big race, one you have been trying to win for 10 years, and it’s incredible how far off track you can get very quickly.
I started off my year, like so many in the past, this exact way. In December I was not myself; everything I had worked on in the pre-season, relaxation, breathing, trusting myself, was out the door the minute we showed up in Colorado. So I tried to reset. I came out of the Christmas break calmer and cooler. That worked alright until race day when I went right back into old habits. I have had these habits for 10 years, so they aren’t so easy to break. We had one race day in Austria (and 3 that were cancelled due to heavy snowfall), and I skied alright, but when I overthink things like I was, my leg and shoulders get tight. Stress creates an amazing tension in my body, and it sometimes seems impossible just to be myself.
Then came Kitzbuhel. Kitzbuhel is home to “The Ski Race”, the Hahnenkamm. To anybody who is a skier, I don’t need to explain any more. To those of you who are not skiers, Kitzbuhel is the Super Bowl, Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, the golden goal, the mountain top victory at the Tour de France, the Masters. It is the biggest race in skiing, period.
Ken Read won Kitzbuhel in 1980 - the first of a string of 4 Canadian in a row to win the race, and the week before the race he wrote a great article of what it would take to win the biggest, and most feared race in skiing. I will let you read the entire article if you wish, http://www.albertaalpine.ca/?q=news%2Fmemories-kitzb%C3%BChel-and-%E2%80%9C-hahnenkamm%E2%80%9D , but the key that struck a chord with me is when he said, “success in downhill comes with the confidence to relax.”
That was it for me. What I was looking for. And the key was, to stop “looking” for it, and to simply do it. I had the keys, I have trained myself so well over 10 years that when the time came, I didn’t need to do anything, just have the confidence that I had done everything already, and relax. I spoke with my coaches and staff about it, I phoned home and talked to my family and girlfriend. The key was doing it on race day.
I found something in the first 6 World Cup races this year. I had a 5th place finish, and a 2nd fastest 2nd run one day. I also made some mistakes, but I was confident with my skiing, and knew that those mistakes were part of the process, and eventually I would be able to clean them up.
I was agonizingly close to the podium this time around, I could taste it. Every race day I felt great, I pushed my limits, I charged, I challenged the line, and I did it all with the flexibility and freedom needed to win at the highest level with the pressure that comes with it. It felt great. I had more fun then ever racing; I had success and I had failures, but I enjoyed every moment of it. With 10 races still to go, I’m excited for the possibilities ahead. Skiing is a bit of crap shoot, with many variables that must all line up to reach the steps of the podium, but with 10 races to go on North American soil, I’m very excited for the possibilities.
We just finished up our yearly trip to Colorado for NorAm races as well as some more training in Copper Mountain and Winter Park. I had mixed results during the 4 day event, but I am really optimistic about where my skiing is heading into the World Cup season in Europe and later in North America.
When I set my goals heading into this season they were based almost entirely on achieving results at the World Cup level. I have had success in the past on the NorAm circuit, but have yet to transfer that into the tougher World Cup field. So I was looking at the races in Colorado as a stepping stone for future races. Generally for the first three days I was nervous, anxious and not able to perform up to my usual training standards. It took a review of those three days to realize how much I had changed my regular routine and how those changes had affected my skiing.
I have no idea why I changed anything. In fact to be honest I wasn’t even entirely aware of having changed anything. What I did was follow the crowd and that is what I’ve always done on race day, follow the crowd, warm up like everyone else, go to the start early, take a few runs to warm up in the morning before making a run in gates to warm up. But I have NEVER done that at any point during the pre-season. My usual routine is to warm up inside first by stretching and doing movement exercises, then warming up slowly on the snow , making minimal runs before the start of the race to save energy, then showing up at the start, and racing. All of these things may seem insignificant, but when you add them all up suddenly I’m standing in the start gate, and I don’t quite feel the same. I’m a little unsure, tired. Add to that the usual race nerves, and it’s a perfect recipe for passive skiing.
I figured this out while talking to some of my coaches after the 2nd and 3rd race days. I took what I gained into the final race day and finished 2nd after the first run, and 4th in the 2nd run; unfortunately I finished 4th by a mere 0.20 seconds, but the major lesson learned is what I’m truly excited about.
I realize now that for a long time I’ve had my own routine in training, and when race day comes, I don’t follow it; I follow whatever the rest of the team is doing. I have no idea why I’ve always done this, but I realize now that it all contributed to me being a little off my game in the start.
So with a month to go before the World Cup season gets underway I’m excited for the lessons learned in the tune up races. We have had over 50 days of skiing thus far this season, which is more than ever before, so in terms of skiing I’m ready to go. What is left is a little rest, which after 50 days on snow is needed, an early trip to Europe to get acclimatized, a final Europa Cup race to get the juices flowing, and then to stick to what I know best, warm up inside, then slowly on the hill, ski minimal runs before my race, show up at the start right before my turn, clear my mind and let it fly.
I’m excited for the prospects of this season. We have a great young team, the members of which are willing to push the limits each and every day. We have had a ton of high quality training and we are well prepared for what lies ahead.
We were training in Nakiska last week, and as is normally the case this time of year there were many other international teams there preparing for the Lake Louise World Cup. The French, Italian and Swiss men’s speed teams were all there, along with the Canadian women’s tech team. It is always a great experience to watch the other teams training, but this year some team mates and I had the privilege of spending an hour picking the brain of one of the best skiers on the planet, Swiss skier Didier Cuche.
There were a number of great skiers there, and I had chats with many members of the Swiss team, but for whatever reason the conversation with Didier was motivating. Didier is a super star. He has won the World Cup Overall title, the Super G title, the Giant Slalom title, an Olympic medal and numerous World Cup and World Championship medals.
We talked about Kitzbuhel, the most feared downhill track in the world (where he has won 4 times), we talked about new rules in skiing, differences in racing since the beginning of his career, nerves, training and everything in between.
What struck me most about him though was not his accomplishments, his drive or his ability to still do it all at the age of 37. What struck me most was how down to earth and normal he truly was. I’m not sure exactly why, but it seems we always expect professional athletes to be different people, especially ones who have reached a level as accomplished as Didier’s. When we think of professional hockey players in Canada we talk about how they play; when they are good they are gods, and when they are bad they are goats. The same can be said for alpine skiers in Switzerland and Austria. I’m not sure what it is we expect from them but for some reason we expect them to be different.
Didier was as normal as the guy next door. He cared passionately about his sport, but he was just as interested in our conversation about golf as he was about skiing. It was a great experience to have had the opportunity to sit and talk to him. I learned that regardless of what we think after reading stories in the media and watching TV, the people we watch compete at the highest levels in the world are often just regular nice guys.
Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.
-Albert Einstein
I just got home from Valle Nevado Chile, where we spent 16 of the last 18 days skiing. Training was picture perfect for the time we were there. The weather Gods were extremely kind; it was a little overcast one day, the rest were blue sunny skies. It froze overnight, and got up into double digits during the afternoon, but the snow stayed hard and icy for the early mornings of skiing.
I was on the lift a few morning at 6:45am and everyday before 7:30am. I had the opportunity to train downhill with the German European Cup team. That was a tremendous experience, two days of full length intense downhill training. We rarely get the opportunity to train downhill, and training with the German team was a step above what we would normally race. The track was incredibly hard, the start gate was literally on the side of a cliff, the speeds were blindingly fast and the terrain was ever changing. All that being said, I survived; and the experience will not soon be forgotten. It will surely come in handy when we race downhill later this season.
For the rest of the team, the trip consisted of 1 man down to altitude sickness, 1 broken finger, 1 sprained wrist, 1 bachelor party and 18 straight nights of pasta bar dinners.
The list of stats that can be measured coming out of one of our training camps is staggering. If you want to know how many runs we made, how many turns each run had, how long those runs are, how high we could jump each day, what we weighed, how many hours we slept, how rested, fatigued, stressed or irritated we felt, we’ve got stats for that. There have been incredible measures taken to attempt to quantify how we are feeling and how that relates to our skiing. I will leave it up to you to debate the usefulness of the stats.
What you can’t quantify is the general feeling you get when with the team. Teamwork in an individual sport is hard to measure, and in some ways completely irrelevant. There are no relay races down the hill, so does it really matter how well people work together? Yes, it matters greatly. Can you measure it? No.
I don’t have the vocabulary to tell you what is happening amongst the team, other than to tell you that the feeling I get when at a training camp this year, is very different than the feeling I got one year ago. Call it team dynamic, call it chemistry, youthful exuberance, a new emphasis on the team, call it whatever you want, but it just feels different.
I am excited for the change. The positive energy is contagious, and it helps everyone. I don’t know how it will affect everyone when races start. I don’t even know how to describe it, but if you are in the room for team dinners, and if you have spent time around the team over the past several years, there is no doubt that you will feel something different, and I am optimistic about where we are heading.
New skills
We just completed our final summer dryland camp up in Whistler. We were very lucky with all three camps this summer; each one was 5 days long at the beginning of June, July and August, and we didn’t get rained on once pretty impressive considering the west coast summer. These three camps were to date, the best dryland camps we have ever had, not necessarily because we spent countless hours in the gym lifting weights until we could not longer walk (although there was an element of that), but mostly because we expanded our knowledge of other sports, which helped to think about skiing from a fresh new perspective.
Each camp, like all before, and I’m sure all to come, had a gym portion to it. We spent every morning from 9:30 to 11:30 in the gym lifting weights, squatting, jumping, balancing, running, biking, crunching, rowing and everything else you can think of that people do in the gym. We have done this forever, and while it is necessary, it is pretty routine and doesn’t stimulate much new thought, just new muscles.
Here is where things changed. Throughout the course of the three camps we did a number of new mountain bike trails as a team, had a road race, went white water rafting, had 2 gymnastics sessions where we learned to flip and twist (might be normal for all those moguls skiers, but very different for an alpine guy like me) not to mention a few great team dinners and meetings where we were able to grow as a unit.
Now you might wonder how something like gymnastics can really help a downhill skier. They certainly don’t put any trampolines in the middle of a downhill track, and if we were ever to be upside down in a slalom course, the landing is not nearly as nice as in the foam pit. But, we learned a new skill. Gymnastics, like skiing, is all about body awareness. Where are all your limbs, and what are they doing at any given point in time. While the comparisons might end there, learning how to do a back flip is learning a new skill. It helps give you a new perspective on your body awareness, learning how it works best. When you are trying to do a back flip, there isn’t much room for error, otherwise it ends up being a headstand, so you have to commit 100% to the flip beforehand, and then stick with it. Not unlike skiing.
All in all the new things we did gave us great perspective. New looks at how to learn. We spend so much time on the ski hill that we can often forget how to learn. We simply go through the same routine we always do, and don’t always get the most out of every day of training. Trying new things has refreshed me. It has also stimulated my mind and is already starting to help me think about skiing, and see it with fresh eyes.
The second great success of the dryland camps has been how it brought us together as a team. I can’t think of a time in the past where were able to have so many honest conversations as a group, where we could hash out our differences, gain an appreciation for one another, discuss why we love to ski, agree, disagree, and mostly grow. Sure we are in an individual sport; every day at the time that matters most, we are on our own. But starting very soon, we will see more of each other than we will our families. Our new friendships are sure to not only make us stronger as a team on the road, but they are sure to translate into our individual performances.
We are 3 weeks away from heading to Chile for the first snow of the season. I’m looking forward to the snow, breathing at 10,000 feet, 72 switch backs to the hotel, and an unlimited pasta bar, but mostly I’m excited to keep improving and doing what I love to do.
Coquitlam Sports Hall of Fame
Two weeks ago I had the incredible honour of accepting an award from the Coquitlam Sports Hall of Fame for the 2010 Athlete of the Year for an Athlete with a disability. I went to elementary, middle and high school in Coquitlam and many of my best friends are still there. It is a special place to me as anyone’s hometown is to them. I have been asked how does it feel to receive an award from the Hall of Fame. I still don’t completely know how to answer that question. There is no doubt that it is an honour, but I think it will take some time, likely after my skiing career is well over, before I will ever realize the magnitude of some of the things I’ve done.
There were some great athletes at the event; some like me receiving yearly awards for their recent accomplishments, other being inducted into the Coquitlam Sports Hall of Fame. There were three speeches that I really remember from the night.
Lui Passaglia was inducted into the Hall of Fame. Lui is likely the most popular and loved BC Lion of all time. His records speak for themselves. What I remember from his speech is how he said he used to spend rainy winter days at Mundy Park kicking field goals, and it was his wife who was often holding the ball.
The second speech was from an older gentleman by the name of Les Wingrove who was inducted under the builder category for his long time work with various Coquitlam lacrosse teams. He got up to the microphone and said, “My wife told me to come up here, say thank you and shut up”; his speech continued for another 5 minutes.
Finally the last memorable speech for me was from another Paralympian Ljiljana Ljubisic (yes her name is spelt correctly) who was in track and
field and won numerous medals throughout her career. She said how thankful she was and then she said how even though she competed in individual sport, every time she was on the podium she remembered how many people’s hard work it took for her to stand there. She felt like the honour of being inducted into the Hall of Fame was not so much for her, as it was for her husband, family, friends and sponsors.
I have thought a lot about that night; the celebration and what people said as they were given a chance to thank those who helped them. It made me think once more of all the people who have helped me from the very beginning until now. But, it also made me realize what it meant to those around me. I think that an award like that means more to those who have supported you or followed you throughout your career than it does to me as an individual. This isn’t taking away from the award, and I certainly am thankful. But when my girlfriend asked me how it felt to receive it, and I didn’t really know how to answer, it was evident to me that she was very proud. Further evidence of that shone through from my family who were there to see me accept it.
Individual awards are not why I do what I do, but they are extremely meaningful, not only to me but to everyone who has ever helped me in striving to achieve my goals.
Summer begins
The official summer training started this past month, even though summer was really nowhere to be found. I knocked the dust off my bikes and spent a lot of time riding them around Squamish and Vancouver. While I felt in great skiing shape at the end of the season, I am definitely not in great bike shape and spent a lot of the month sucking wind while climbing west coast hills.
I took a biomechanical assessment at Gastown Physiotherapy to start the month and found out some pretty interesting information. No matter how strong I think I am, great physiotherapists, trainers, or doctors always seems to find areas of incredible weakness in my body.
My body, like all others, has weaknesses. Due to the nature of my disability, the strength in my body is quite disproportionate. We all have this but due to my lack of a right leg, my left leg is quite strong, or so I thought until it was put slightly behind me, and in one particular position could barely hold up a 10 lbs. weight. It is crazy to think that I can squat hundreds of pounds, yet with the exact same leg, can barely lift 10.
So, I started to take some Pilates classes this month. I had never taken anything like this before. I took one yoga class during a dry land training camp a few summers ago and it didn’t really go that well. So, I really didn’t know what to expect.
At the beginning of my career I thought that the more weight I could lift the better- seemed logical at the time, and it is true, but only to a certain degree. The weight you lift must be functional, and not put your body in a position to hurt itself. Think of all those times you’ve been told to “lift with your legs”. The same applies for skiing; if your body is weak in certain areas, however small those areas may be, those areas can be the cause of many injuries. As my career has progressed, the knowledge of my team training staff in this area has grown, the knowledge of the imbalances in an amputee’s body have grown, and the general knowledge of what it means to be a “strong” athlete has evolved. Enter Pilates.
What is it all about? In one word, core. And once again I found some
areas where I was incredibly strong, and other areas where I was incredibly weak. Basically, you can think of your body as a few “big” muscles, and a whole bunch of “small” muscles; my big muscles were doing all the work, and my small muscles hadn’t done anything in a while.
After 4 sessions of Pilates I noticed a significant difference in my posture. As an amputee I favour one side. Doing this torques my back. Being a skier, there is also a lot of strain put on my back. What Pilates has done is added strength to parts of my core, taking some the pressures off my back and putting my body into a better postural position.
What does this all mean? Well, with some more work during the summer, I’m hoping it will mean I will be stronger - not entirely because my muscles are any bigger, but simply because my body will function in a more balanced way. If I can make all those little muscles of my body support the already strong big muscles, I’m excited to see the outcome.
Having said all that, I anticipate a lot of painful days in the gym before that comes to fruition. Well worth it.
Up and comers
This past season has brought with it some incredible opportunities for young up and coming skiers to jump in with our team’s prospect program. There is currently a wealth of young talented skiers in Canada that have been inspired by the past 8 years of build up to the 2010 Games, and they are now getting to the age where they can compete at the National and World level. This is encouraging for a number of reasons. 1) It has never happened before. 2) It raises the level of competition throughout the whole country, making us stronger as a skiing nation. 3) It motivates me and all the “old guys” to stay on our toes, if we have them.
When I went to my first National Championships I was 13 years old. My mom came with the team as we really had no idea what to expect. I learned a lot that week and often reflect on the adventures of the 18 hour van ride from Vancouver to Kimberley (yes it should have only taken 10-12, but that is a story for another time). I learned about the National team and some of the many possibilities that were available in skiing. At the time the budget for the National team was pretty tight, and they weren’t afforded many of the luxuries that we sometimes take for granted today. What was then 2 coaches (neither full time) a manager, and a few volunteers, has today turned into a full time year round, world class program. Going along with that, has been a wave of young talent. I was always the youngest skier at Nationals in the beginning, and when I joined the team at 18, everyone else was in there 20’s, 30’s and even 40’s. Last week at training camp we had three 18 years olds, a 13 year old, a 17 year old, and a number of under 22’s who are legitimate team contenders. It is promising to see this wave of youth making their way up through the systems that are now in place.
There is no doubt that competition breeds better skiers. If you are the only one training, it can be tough to keep up the necessary motivation you need to be at your best. But when there are 10-15 people doing whatever they can to win each run in training, there is no need for the coaching staff to do any motivating; it simply creates itself amongst the athletes. When one person has a fast run, everyone else pushes a little harder. It is a domino effect, lifting everyone involved to new heights. Each and every day you can see improvements on the hill, and there is no doubt with a little time and effort the team is going to be very strong.
Finally, from a selfish perspective, I don’t want to lose to some young punk! In some ways I still considered myself to be the young guy on the team; with the misfortune some of my team mates had this year with injuries, and the good fortune the young guys had in their rapid improvements, I quickly found myself to be the “old guy”. My 9 years on the team gave me significantly more race experience than some of the young guys, but they didn’t care; there is nothing more satisfying then beating a longstanding member of the team. I know, that used to be my motivation. Now, all of a sudden, I am being chased.
I have a lot of motivation for training this summer. Champions are made in the summer, and over my time on the team I am very confident that my summer training program has been fine tuned to get me in optimal shape for skiing. I have set my summer training goals. We have 3 dryland training camps planned as a team in Whistler, and I am very excited coming off such a successful season. Having said all that, there is great motivation to keep ahead of my young up and coming team mates. I have no doubt they will give it everything they have this summer, and it will take nothing short of my best to stay on top. Bring it on boys, we will all be better because of it.
Season Recap
Heading into this season’s first training camp in Valle Nevado, Chile was unlike any of the past years. The certainty of the 2010 Winter Games had passed and it left a lot of things up in the air. I think everyone on the team was wondering where they fit into the new program, and what exactly the new program was. For so long it was a given.
Once I started skiing, or course, all the great feelings came back. I spent most of the camp just skiing, not thinking about much and figuring out what the future would look like. What I decided is that it was time to make a change. For a long time I believed that technically I’ve had what it takes to have success on the hill, but an unwillingness to let it really go when the time called for it, was lacking.
That was really my major thought when training all this year, really letting my skis continue to point downhill, no matter what the situation. Seems obvious enough, but, easier said than done. When you are through the fastest or most difficult part of any course, it is very difficult to relax and just let everything flow downhill; it is nerve wracking and brings into play a great chance of crashing. But that was it really, my one key thought that stayed with me all season.
Once we had our first races in December I knew that what I was trying to do was going to bring success, or so I thought. I had some great results in the first tune up races of the season. I was really excited with how it went and I took that confidence into the World Cup and World Championships in Italy. It didn’t last. To this day I’m really not sure why. There are a lot of different reasons, human error sure, but there were also other days when it just didn’t go my way. It was extremely difficult to continuously send messages home to my family saying…skied well again today, did not finish, going to do the same thing tomorrow.
I came home pretty demoralized and really not sure what to do. For some reason skiing in Europe had my number.
Thankfully I went back to an old hill in Kimberley where I was very comfortable, and luck would have it that a number of top Europeans came over to race the speed events over a week.
That was nearly 2 months ago. Since then I have had one of the great consistent stretches of skiing in my career. Not just consistent mediocre, consistent and really strong run in and run out. I didn’t even realize it until my team Director pointed it out, but I was on the podium 10 of 16 races over the last 2 months. While the fields are not World Cup fields, there were elite level skiers all around and each and every run I was in contention, showing good signs.
Finally.
Finally what I believed to be true was actually happening. I am ecstatic with the way I finished the season. While I certainly have a ways to go to contend on the far side of the pond under the pressures that come with such a journey, I have learned a few tools to success that will surely help me in the future. It is at a time that this that I truly don’t want to stop skiing. I wish I had a couple weeks off then headed back for some big races overseas; unfortunately I’ll have to wait a while.
So what happens after 2 months of great skiing and pushing myself further than ever before? I lie in bed and my body checks out. I suppose when you push so hard for so long it is no surprise that your body needs some balance.
At least the Masters is on TV all this weekend.