I raced to a pair of thirds this weekend in Rossland, BC. Third in the skate sprints on Saturday (qualified 5th) and third in the 10k classic on Sunday. I raced well. I skied solidly. As always after races I review what I did well and what I did poorly. I picked the wrong skis on saturday because I wasn't expecting new snow and it did snow, lightly but persistently, so my skis got progressively slower. I picked the right skis sunday and took them back to get retouched (thank you Dan & Ian!) until they were exactly how I wanted them. I took the lead early in the A Final on Saturday and shouldn't have. I should have stuck closer to Swanson on Sunday once she passed me. I warmed up well both days. The list continues.

Still, despite the decent results, $300 CAN, and two commemorative mugs, I find myself not quite satisfied with the weekend. I feel dulled & without spark. There's no artistry in my skiing. Racing should be a celebration of movement, of life. There was no celebration in my body this weekend. Drive, yes. Focus, yes. Not joy. Both races were a grind-- I muscled through the races on fitness, capacity & efficiency.

Where was the beauty in my skiing?

Is that an absurdly trivial question to ask?

Or is it the only question that really matters?

Labels: race