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. Read more

Heartbeat of The WOMA: Twin Biathletes, WOMA retreat & more

A few weeks ago several members of the Women’s Outdoor Media Association attended the annual NRA Meetings and Exhibits in Charlotte, N.C. It was an AWESOME experience, between outstanding speakers, a record-breaking number of exhibitors and attendees, plus a wonderful response to The WOMA’s hospitality suite hosted throughout the Saturday of the convention.

In a few weeks, my video editing guru, Marilyn Vogel of ProVideos 4 U, will have finished a webisode filmed at the NRA event. We’ll post the video at the website so you’ll have the opportunity to meet a variety of interesting new WOMA members, including Olympic Biathlon twin sisters, Tracy and Lanny Barnes.

The Barnes sisters, along with several other men and women of all ages and media backgrounds, are exactly the “breaths of fresh air” that our outdoor industry needs, especially if we hope to continue to encourage mainstream media to cover our industry in a pro-gun way—and we do!

As the camp director of Babes with Bullets ™, I know that at almost every BWB camp across the US we enjoy pro-gun mainstream media coverage (check out the newest pieces from NBC and ABC at the Babes With Bullets website. Whether at Babes with Bullets ™ or other arenas of The WOMA based on hunting, fishing, the shooting sports and archery, the goal of The WOMA is to build a unique human interest story about and around women, not a story about political parties or turf wars.

The saga of Tracy and Lanny, from their World Cup wins, to their experiences at the 2010 Winter Olympics, and now their goal of the 2014 Winter Olympics, is just one of many intriguing storylines. Visit Tracy and Lanny’s website at www.TwinBiathletes.com.

The gals are actively building their sponsorship and fan base, and I believe The WOMA is the perfect vehicle to help them with that task! WOMA President Barb Baird and I are already talking about traveling to Russia for the 2014 Olympics so we can cheer on our fellow WOMA members in their quest for an Olympic medal, so stay tuned for more information as time goes on.

We’re also hoping that Tracy and Lanny can make it to the first WOMA retreat to be held at Gunnison, Colo., from Friday, October 8 to Tuesday, October 12. This retreat, with housing provided at Three Rivers Resort, is being arranged through another outstanding member, Katherine Browne,  of the Prois Pro Hunting Staff. Katherine has put together for us a wonderful (and significantly discounted) package including grouse hunting, fly fishing and something I’ve wanted to do for years: working and hunting with falcons. How cool is that!

We have a large lodge reserved and can accommodate a total of 12 people for this event, though several spots were already spoken for as soon as we announced the retreat. So far we have three couples and two other members. If you’re interested, please contact me by e-mail (Deb@theWOMA.com) ASAP, as it takes a deposit of $100 per person to hold your spot. We estimate the cost for lodging, chipping in for food, a one-day grouse hunting license, a full day of fly fishing, etc. will run roughly $450 per person for the whole event. This is a great program offered at a discount for The WOMA, though due to lack of slots we are limiting this event to adults only.

I hope to meet more of you at the October retreat and in the meantime please submit your articles, photos, short blogs (whatever) to The WOMA so we can see what you are doing in your outdoor life!

Right back where you started from

“I really want to try cross-country skiing!” pleaded my daughter moments after she’d picked up her bag.  We were heading toward the airport terminal ladies’ room to change clothes so we could hike to the “M” and reward ourselves with sweet potato fries at Hob Nob on the “hip strip” in downtown Missoula.

I was game, having downhill skied throughout my lifetime, albeit not adeptly.  I’d recently announced that I would never ski that way again.  I’d been feeling my age and had sworn off virtually everything but walking, fishing, or pumping an elliptical trainer.  Balance and coordination have never been my forte, but outdoor desire burns bright. I’d struggled with acting it out all my life, and now I imagined cross-country to be less harrowing a winter endeavor for one in her, ahem, late fifties.  If I experimented with the technique—or lack thereof—with Katharine, I’d be safe from the embarrassment of flailing in front of my peers. This way, I could grow comfortably seasoned before next ski season!

Two days later we set out to rent the necessary equipment and head for the hills—Lolo Pass to be exact, since all sign of snow had evaporated, literally, from the valley, even though it was only the second week in March.  Geared up and giddy, Katharine pulled out our sack lunches as I turned onto Highway 12.

“During lunch,” I dictated, “We’ll start your list of pros and cons.”  She had brought along a yellow-papered legal pad so that we might create a list of reasons for her to either leave her current job and accept another—or not.  Everyone knows this is the best way to go about making a difficult decision where both sides of the scale appear to be balanced.  And for Katharine, a sufferer of a rather advanced case of OCD, tipping one side or the other can go on for days on end.  Her stepfather had opted to stay home and clean out the shed rather than have to listen to yet another spin on the same advantages and disadvantages he’d been privy to in conversation for the past forty-eight hours.

“I can hear her debating in my sleep!” he teased—he being the father of two adult sons whose only behavior disorder had been one too many bottles of beer or a party gone haywire while dad was away.

Sandwich gripped in left hand, Katharine deftly multi-tasked with pencil in right, tablet on lap, set to embark on mental machinations.  Back and forth, forth and back, we approached the decision from all angles, the drive flashed by, and we pulled into the parking lot not only equipped to ski, but with her firm decision to stay right where she was, a three-year veteran in the job with a plethora of advantages over any other.

“After all that,” she sighed.  “All that angst and anxiety just to figure out the best thing is to stay!  Why did I go through all that?”

“Sometimes…” I surprised myself with such sagacity…”you leave home in search of greener grasses for the sole reason that it will lead you right back to the field where you started.”

Dang, I’m good.

We stepped into our skis and I began to instruct her with what little I’d gleaned from ogling the Winter Olympics and a few YouTube videos on how to cross-country ski.  She took a few of the usual tumbles, but once underway, we glided, lunged and poled like the best of them.

The scenery was astonishing, the temperature a mild 55-60 degrees; we skied sans jackets, gloves, or even hats.  And the best part?  Ours had been the only car in the parking lot and so it follows, were the only people on the trail.  Glorious.

I’d discovered my retirement outdoor sport! I’d leave walking with Yak Traks in the dust and announce my new found passion.  After weighing the concerns about attempting it, the skill had come easily to me after all.

That’s when I stopped to study the trail map and while standing perfectly still, instantly found myself sitting, having whip lashed my neck and overextended both ankles beyond human capability.  The brief, sharp pain subsided, and blessedly, when I managed to crawl around until I could hoist myself erect, I was able to ski quite normally the two miles back to the parking lot.  Even after a nasty fall, cross-country skiing was kind to my aging physique—not to mention the ankle I’d broken just over a year ago, a feat likewise accomplished while standing utterly still.

It wasn’t long, however, before my perfect-sport bubble burst.  The ankle began to swell that evening, the sprain-pain became unbearable, and Brad had to carry me to bed, tears running down my cheeks over the loss of the delusion that I might actually be somewhat athletic in my old age.  As if I had been at any age?

“I’m never doing anything again!”  I boo-hooed, as I slapped a bag of frozen peas on the swelling.  Sometimes those greener grasses (or whiter ski trails) only lead you right back to where you started.

By morning, however, I was considering snowshoeing.  I’d read an advertisement:  “If you can walk, you can snowshoe.”

I think I can walk.  I just can’t stand still.