The Quick Fall

As a skier, I have always been fascinated by how quickly summer transitions into fall, and then into winter—heading south to Mammoth Lakes, California, for the fall camp one moment, and the next, it's winter and the start of the competitive season. That is my feeling in a typical year, let alone a Games year, like this one. This is the period when I try to complete as many of the extra tasks as possible before the competitive season ramps up. It has been an exciting fall with training camps, competitions, and events in the final few months before the upcoming season begins. That season is highlighted by a test event in February in the Italian mountains and the big show in March. I'm joking about the test event part. It's time for the next edition of the Winter Olympics. They make sure to iron out all the issues before we arrive in Italy for the Paralympics, so thanks for that. I wish all those qualified and those working hard to earn their spots on Team Canada the best over the next few months and during the Olympics themselves.

The feeling of fall seems to fade away—from the Mammoth camp to the first laps of Frozen Thunder and into the initial competitive opportunities of the season in early November—they seem to blur together. Add in some globe-trotting and school, and you get my schedule for the past few weeks. The temperatures are dropping, but it doesn't quite feel like winter just yet, even though I have been skiing on snow for the past two weeks. Once again, mid-October signals the return of Frozen Thunder at the Canmore Nordic Centre. I may have had my doubts initially, based on looking at the snow piles from last year. They appeared significantly smaller than last year, and I worried there wouldn't be enough to complete all the planned loops, along with several ongoing construction projects around the Biathlon range. I honestly didn't know what would come of the loop. I do have to give credit to the crew at the Nordic Centre, despite one section of last year's loop being unusable due to construction. They pulled off what I think is maybe one of the best rollouts of Frozen Thunder—using it as a tool to transition between deep summer training and the first races. Which happens in the first week of November, when I'll compete in Biathlon Canada's World Cup & IBU Cup Trials. A great tradition for me to start the season at these trials, then aim for Continental Cups or World Cup races later in November and into December.

A view of the temporary Biathlon stadium for the LoopOne Festival.

In October, I also seized a unique opportunity by travelling to Munich for a few days to compete in the inaugural LoopOne Festival. The festival was organized by the International Biathlon Union (IBU) to kick off the new season, which was just over a month away. The event aimed to bring biathlon closer to more people by setting up in the heart of Munich, around and on the lake at Olympiapark München. The atmosphere was festive, with demos, games, food, and exciting competitions featuring some of the world's best biathletes. The Para race featured an invited roster of athletes who roller-skied around the 1.8 km loop. We used a modified Sprint format with two shooting bouts, three laps, and a hunting start. Approximately 20,000 visitors attended the event on Saturday, which included the Para and Junior races, while over 50,000 people came on Sunday for the able-bodied races. It was a series of firsts and new experiences for me. I had never competed in an international roller ski race before. I had also never roller-skied on carpet—purple carpet to be exact; purple being one of the event's colours. The range was built on a platform over the lake. It wasn't my best race, but I wasn’t expecting it to be—this is nowhere near the time to be at my best yet. Still, I enjoyed the new experiences that tested my abilities and helped me perform in a different environment. I must thank the IBU for the invite and the incredible opportunity to be part of this first edition of LoopOne.

One reason I wasn’t at my best in Munich was that only a week earlier, I had returned from a three-week training camp in Mammoth Lakes, California. It was another successful edition of the Mammoth camp. The weather was a bit unusual: daily highs were slightly lower than usual, but overnight lows weren’t as cold or cool. I'm not sure if it just felt like that, but it also seemed to be the camp with the most rain. Not that I trained in the rain often, but more sessions started on wet roads or in the afternoons and evenings when it poured heavily. There were some great longer, mixed-mode sessions; some were repeated workouts from previous years, while others took different routes in similar areas. This camp feels comfortable; there is a sense of routine and familiarity. I know most of the places I will train, but there’s always an opportunity to explore something new and decide afterward whether to include it as a future possibility. That applies across multiple modes—whether running, roller skiing, or cycling. I've found that a good mix of both works well, spending most of my time on familiar roads or trails. That allows me to focus on technical details or to ensure I'm in the right training zones. Doing the same routes repeatedly can get old, even boring, but it gives me a chance to reflect on how I'm skiing, riding, or running on that terrain. It allows me to subtly compare year after year how my fitness or efficiency is. It also helps me consider what I'm learning from my training. Sometimes that's the whole challenge: do something a hundred times, then, on the hundred and first, learn something new. Now, the routine and repetition need to be balanced with some exploration of the known and unknown. The quality of training I get from this Mammoth camp is hard to beat. The fact that this was my tenth year going to Mammoth is only part of the proof. I hadn't kept track, strangely; I knew the number was growing. So, I looked back through twenty years of training and mapped out every (I hope) training camp I've done throughout my career. I wouldn't call it an exhaustive list, but it revealed some interesting facts. Some things I'd forgotten, or my mind had mashed together. But by doing this, I realized this was my tenth trip to the Eastern Sierras. Quality comes from consistent, simple, and routine training. The best athletes excel at performing simple tasks with ease and efficiency, which is what makes them the best. That said, taking opportunities to adventure offers new perspectives and a refreshed mindset, which is especially important when you’re out there for hours with only your thoughts for company. To me, Mammoth still offers both of those aspects, and I figure it has a few more years before new adventures run out, but then I'll start all over.

The fall was a busy time and, in many ways, only a taste of what is to come, as I stand at the beginning of another season—the Paralympic Games season. The countdown is underway with just four months left before the Games. I'm on the verge of officially starting the 2025-26 competitive season. Focus and attention will gradually shift to the season itself before fine-tuning the details of preparation for the Games. This time of year always brings a mix of emotions and questions, but I can only focus on my process and reflect on my actions as I follow my plan to be at my best when the Games arrive.