Road to Russia: What was it like?

People often ask me what it’s like to be in the Olympics or what it’s like to compete in them. Lots of things pop into my head when I’m asked this question: lots of words – like excitement, adrenaline, nervousness, joy, pain, honor, country, family, go … Go faster! … “Lanny, GO!”

Suddenly, I’m brought back to a familiar place, a place that has been in my rehearsed thoughts for four years leading up to the Olympics. I look right and see a blur of red, white and blue. Someone is yelling my name. It’s almost inaudible at first, everything sounds fuzzy. The only thing that is clear to me is my breathing, and my lungs are expanding and contracting at a blistering rate. I don’t feel anything, but I’m moving and moving fast.  There’s nothing but silence, almost peaceful in a way. I’m in an empty void. I’m in a place where every athlete’s mind goes on occasion when you are too tired to think and the pain is almost too much to bear. You can see it on an athlete’s face when they go to that empty void, their eyes glass over and that grimace that was spread across their face is now replaced with an emotionless stare. It’s a quiet place, its peaceful, but I don’t want to be here. And with that thought it hits me … bam! Like a wave crashing down and it sets in … reality.

My ears are overwhelmed with sounds, people screaming and cheering, whistles, horns, the sound of my labored breathing, my heart pounding against my chest, my skis gliding across the snow. My senses are back, and with it the pain I was trying to avoid by going to that empty void. But I welcome it. It lets me know how hard I’m going and if I can push harder. Here in this mind set, in reality, I’m racing. In this mind set you think about a lot to get your mind off the fact that it hurts. You focus on the ski technique, reach with the arms, good weight shift, push with the legs.

In my mind’s eye, right now I’m charging up a hill heading into my final shooting stage at the Individual Race at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics. There are four shooting stages in this race, two prone and two standing and a grueling three-kilometer loop in between each shooting bout. Each shooting stage consists of five shots with a minute added on to your time for each miss. I’ve hit 15 for 15 so far and have five shots left. I’m skiing well and am having a great race. There are 87 women all vying for a gold medal and I’m one of them. With a clean shooting in the last stage, I’ll be near the top.

“No pressure,” I think to myself as I ski up and over the final hill in to the shooting range. At this point my mind does a 180. I’m no longer a skier; I’m a shooter on skis.  I’m now in my comfort zone. I grew up shooting and in it my confidence lies.  It’s a funny thing, but I woke up that morning knowing that I was going to clean the race, and as I’m heading into the final shooting stage of the race I’m not thinking about the fact that there’s a lot of pressure on me, that one miss will move me 20 places back and two misses will put me out of the race. I’m actually thinking, “Man, I love this!”

Biathlon is the ultimate sport for me. Fast-paced, head-to-head, action-packed shooting, combined with the adrenaline pumping thrill of physical chase. I ski into the range, stop at a shooting point, sling my rifle off my back and get into position.

I repeat a few words in my head and my whole body relaxes. These words are simple and I practice them so many times during the year that I find myself subconsciously repeating them when I go to sleep at night. They are trigger words that help my body to relax. Just repeating them in my head allows my body to relax, even when my heart rate is pounding over 180 beats per minute. So, with my body relaxed I quickly fire off five shots and throw my gun on my back and push off out of the range with a smile on my face. I’ve cleaned the race, but I know that the hard part is yet to come. The last loop is the hardest and I will be asking myself to go harder and faster than I’ve ever gone before.

I push out of the range and up over the first hill. Some of our staff was on the first hill and they run beside me yelling and giving me splits (telling me in what position I’m in and how many seconds there are between me and the next competitor).  I then push hard over the hill and get in a tuck. I immediately look left as I’ve done every loop because there, running beside the track with American flags draped over their shoulders are my sisters Tracy and Christie. They are running alongside me and cheering me on.

This to me is one of the best parts of the race; it reminds me that I’m doing it for them and for all the other people I represent in this great country. I see that flag and my sisters sprinting alongside and it gives me energy. I smile briefly at them and give them a wave and like that I’m powering up the next hill pushing with everything I’ve got.  I’m skiing alongside a Norwegian and matching her stride for stride. Normally this Norwegian out-skis me on the tracks, but not today. Today I’m racing an inspired race. And I push hard on towards the finish.

People are lining the course and cheering in every language. The best part about the Olympics is that everyone cheers for everyone, not just the favorites, or their own country, but they cheer for everybody. My mind tries hard to focus but it’s difficult. Tiredness sets in and my mind wants to go to that empty happy place. But I consciously open my eyes wider, because I don’t want to miss this. This is an opportunity like non-other and I’m not about to miss it.  The finish gets closer and the Norwegian and I are racing hard. One kilometer to go … 500 meters … 100 meters. I reach forward with my ski as far as I can, knowing that each second could mean a place.

I collapse at the line exhausted. I try desperately to get my breathing under control. I get up and look at the score board and see that I’ve won. I haven’t won the race, but I’ve won my own personal race. Until today I have never cleaned (hit all 20 shots) in a four-stage race before. I did that today and skied faster than I had all year. I got 23^rd place, the best finish for an American female in over 16 years. I didn’t get gold today, but I’m happy knowing that I’m one step closer and I smile knowing that in four years I will be skiing faster and hopefully be bringing home gold for USA!! ~ Lanny Barnes

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