Word: skiing
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Biathlon also tapped into a lurking element of my Scandinavian pride (I am of Swedish heritage). I remember reading about vastly outnumbered ski-borne Finnish troops' earning the nickname "white death" for repeatedly confounding and outmaneuvering the Russian army during the Second World War. I also remember an account from 1943 of a group of Norwegian commandos who successfully skied overland all the way to Sweden (over 250 miles) after blowing up a Nazi heavy water facility that was a key component in Hitler's attempt to manufacture an atomic bomb. More than a few sports have some type...
...January of 2000 my wife and I took a trip to Lake Placid and I took my first-ever ski lesson at the facility at Mt. Van Hoevenburg. The instructor was very patient and professional during the hour that I displayed no detectable ability on skis. Whatever experience I had from my first largely imaginary foray into the sport in the '80s was worse than useless. The specific technique used in biathlon, called "skating," proved immeasurably elusive for me, despite the fact that I was in the hands of a veteran coach in a one-on-one lesson...
...Armed with my dry-land skis, I could train during lunchtime in Central Park practically every day all summer, and the proposition became significantly less ridiculous. All I had to do was get over the slight drawback of making a spectacle of myself every day. Speeding through the park at the height of summer on strange-looking wheeled units attached to Day-Glo Nordic ski boots and preposterously long poles is one of the few ways to actually attract attention in New York City. It took some time to reconcile my inherently low-key Scandinavian temperament with the whole public...
...love the two-strap harness that holds it securely on my back but allows me to take it off and prepare to fire in just a few seconds. I love the little metal flaps that snap in place over the sights to keep them clear of snow during the skiing intervals. I love the surprising heft of the thing; you pick it up and get the distinct sense that to ski very far with it on your back and then hold it steady enough to hit a four-inch circle at 50 meters is an activity most certainly undertaken...
...ends up being a day of extremes. I do actually finish the 10km time trial, hit a few targets while standing on skis, and employ a ski technique that is much improved over the flailing and falling that took place during my punishing first lesson 11 months ago. This is great, but it is eclipsed quickly by a reality that only the most hopelessly deluded can miss: On any objective scale I still suck at it quite badly. Really...