| |
|
|
|
|
Can't Wait to Race...
\r\nYellowed aspen leaves and white flakes of snow litter the path along Park City’s Old Main. Mr. Coffee percolating black sludge breaks the calm quietness of town. Forget finding a cappuccino or a copy of New York Times before 7 here. Park City loves the nightlife, hates mornings. Especially weekend mornings. Personally, this is my favorite part of the week. This Saturday, though, is extra special.
\r\n
\r\nIn late October the world’s best skiers gather along the banks of the Rhine River in Dusseldorf, Germany to kick start the World Cup season. The competitors there read like a who’s who of cross country skiing. Even countries like Japan, Denmark, Greece, Poland and the Republic of South Africa sent their best. Drizzling rain doesn’t stop 100,000 rowdy spectators from line the one-kilometer, man-made snow lined, city street loop. On all sides the crowd crams together, six rows deep. Accordions play. Noisemakers rattle. Cowbells ring. There’s plenty of Weiss bier consuming, bratwurst grilling going on. Those Germans grill a mean brat.
\r\n
\r\nOnly I’m not able to take this ambience in. I won’t stand in the Dusseldorf starting gate today. The race starter won’t call me to the line to challenge the world’s best. Instead flying along Rhine River racecourse, I fire up the laptop. Finding results on the internet is as close to the Dusseldorf World Cup as I’ll come today.
\r\n
\r\nThe US Ski Team decided against sending a team to Dusseldorf. In two weeks, five team members skip across the Atlantic to Munio, Finland to meet up with the World Cup for its Scandinavian series. Two teammates are to stay home through January. Four more months must pass before my passport gets stamped. Four more months to go before fitness and resolve meet opportunity.
\r\n
\r\nHow many chances do you get to be great? Maybe a couple. Maybe once. I feel a sense of urgency, some serious one shot intensity. I don’t want this moment to pass away. I’m not racing because of money. Nothing more. I feel let down.
\r\n
\r\nInstead of being weighed down by this slight, the agitation evaporates away in the blink of an eye. Two hours later a race begins. I forget to feel the pain of racing. I push the pace. Hard. Harder. Harder, my body always responds. Others cannot. After it’s all done, muscles twitch uncontrollably from fatigue. I cannot see clearly – white spots cloud my vision. My mind though is just buzzing to an electric thrill that comes when you’re gone ten-tenths. Today I skied beautifully. I sped away from America’s finest. I didn’t look back. I was stronger. I had better technique. I wanted it more. I can’t help but think what might have been in Dusseldorf. The World Cup beckons. But February seems such a long time away.
\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
\r\nTorin Koos 2004 All Rights Reserved
\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
\r\n
Written By: TKoosDate Posted: 11/5/2004Number of Views: 237
Return |
|
|
|
|
|
|