We made the usual 60 minute, 3 lift trek up to the track and got our start numbers. I’m always right in the middle, as the racers with World Cup points go first, then those with just FIS points (us) in order of the least experience. I.e. me first every time. I also found out that contrary to what I was told last night, I would indeed get some FIS points for yesterday’s race. The day was looking up after all…
I was running a little late, and had to rush onto the lift to get to the start. As I was waiting an instantly recognisable haircut stepped into the small cable car and my jaw dropped. It was Richard Branson. One of my ambitions has always been to meet the man in person, so I sidled as close as I could without raising attention and flashed the union jack on my race suit. He was chatting away happily to his daughter and didn’t notice. I coughed slightly and edged my leg a little closer in what was fast becoming a “lunge”. Still nothing. In a final attempt I tweaked the lunge by rocking forwards and backwards gently in manner that would get you arrested outside a primary school, and then managed to drop a pole. “So are you competing then?” asked a random bloke behind me, engaging me in a conversation 180 degrees from the direction I wanted to be facing. Bugger.
At the top of the lift I decided I would turn up the level of the “stalk” one notch. I followed him down the stairs and barged a random cheese eating surrender monkey out the way so I could put on my skis next to him, obviously with yet another “tweaked lunge”. Still nothing. Is this man made of ice? Does he need glasses?
Skis on, I followed him down the narrow entry to the slope, and as he stopped on the edge, I eventually grabbed my chance: “Sir Richard, wish us luck!” I said. What I think he said was: “Good luck Benja, I’ve always been a great fan and fully support your noble, yet ill planned and dangerous entry into the British Ski Team”. Although, as it was a bit of a grunt I couldn’t make out all the words, and it might have just been “Sod off and leave me alone you spandex wearing weirdo”.
Even though I was late, there was the inevitable waiting as competitor after competitor went down. I was trying to remember what Marc and Banger, the Swedish coach (who has been very helpful as the British coach is recovering from an operation in the UK) had said about my tuck. “Flatten your back”. “Weight off your heels”. Right, got that. And there was the same feeling of unconstrained adrenaline coursing into my veins, and sweat on my palms as I inched closer to the front. We were starting from the same height as yesterdays final run before heading another 20 yards up the hill for the second of the day, and although I had been from this height before, it didn’t make it any less terrifying.
“Quand tu veux” went the starter. Right, off I go. Shit caught an edge. Hang on…snowplough, straighten skis and go. I’d already lost 30 yards of the course from a simple f*ck-up. OK, into the tuck. Here we go accelerating just like yesterday…shit…what did Banger say…my weight is too far back…get forward….OK…that’s better…back flat…and go….
My skis felt very stable beneath me, and I was doing good speed. Poles a little close to my face maybe, but OK. Seems good. And hold for the timing run…..over the red line, then the green and up into the airstream….and relax. Yesterday from the same height in the same conditions I managed 157.27 kph. I closed in on the scoreboard at the bottom and couldn’t believe it. 161.73 kph. That’s it! Anything over 161 is 100mph. The speed I’ve always wanted to hit. At last, I’ve done it…
Marc was at the bottom with a grin. “Is that good?” I asked. “That’s pretty quick” he said. (To give an idea of the field – the fastest on Tues was 165.42, and the fastest today 165.70 so the track hadn’t got much faster, apparently Banger and Marc’s advice had made all the difference)
I was ecstatic about it. As I skied to the lift back to the competitor’s area, I was like a 5 year old child, shouting and waving my poles everywhere. I’d done it. When I got there, I headed up to the results board to check I hadn’t just seen the previous competitors result. Nope, there it was bright as day. And I looked down the list of guys after me…160, 155, 159, 160, 160, 154…hang on. Yesterday as the only rookie I was 20th out of 21, and today after one run I was up to 15th. In a bloody World Cup race. Shit the bed. I’m a rock star!
Banger came over, congratulated me, then gave me some tips (he watches every racer through binoculars), and showed me a much better tuck position for the next run. I was fired up. Here we go…Ipod on with a suitable soundtrack, back on the lift and back to the start. This time I was ready to give it some bells. At the final start line we are always called forward by Alison, an American who was the first woman through 200 kph 25 years ago. I was just considering some pithy line to give her as she called my name. “Benja?”. “Yup…” I replied, with a comedy classic about to roll off my tongue. “You’re TD’d – sorry they didn’t tell you?”
At every FIS race there is a Technical Director who decides start times, start order, checks back protectors, safety gear and other admin. Another of his roles is to check technique, and give a warning to anyone he thinks aren’t in control. After that warning you are then expected to put right whatever fault you have demonstrated, otherwise he won’t let you start from any higher on the slope (and as every run is from slightly higher for a faster speed is essentially a retirement). This was the one possible flaw in my entry into a speed skiing competition. Essentially the last ski lesson I had was when I was 8 years old, I’d never had any speed skiing training, and Marc’s advice for my first run was “go with what’s natural, and we’ll make changes to your tuck as we go”. I knew I was “winging it”, and there was always a danger I might get caught out as a rookie on technique. Everyone else builds up their speeds in training more gently…100 kph, 105kph, 110kph and so on. Due to various constraints, I’d just had to “wing it” from about my previous fastest of about 110 / 120 kph straight up to 155/160 in one step.
I knew there was no chance in arguing, and with my tail between my legs skied down the black mogul slope on my race skis (a challenge in itself) and back to the competitor’s area. I felt gutted. I felt I’d let down Marc, Tom, Banger and Millar Reid (the British Coach back in the UK who took a gamble on me competing in the first place having never seen me ski). I’d f*cked it, and worst of all didn’t know what I’d done wrong as Alison couldn’t tell me.
“What did you do?” Marc asked. “No f*cking idea” I replied. Marc went off to find the FIS judge and get an explanation. He called me over and translated the reason “too much weight on my heels – can be dangerous”, and then started arguing the point for me. “But he’s very fast and stable” was his first repost. “It doesn’t matter…it is a dangerous position” the reply. “But he should have a first warning and he can put it right…” A shrug of the shoulders was the answer to that. Marc fought my case as strongly as he could (and he holds a lot of weight in the speed skiing scene), but to no avail. “I do not disqualify him” said the judge “I just do not let him go from any higher up the hill”. So retirement then. Banger and Marc had spotted my flaw on the first day, I had only remembered half way down the slope to correct it, but by that point the FIS guy must have already seen me and made his decision. (I wasn’t alone though – a total of 5 were cut / didn’t make the comp)
So that’s it. My speed stands, I will get FIS points, I am not disqualified, but even for the run I didn’t get to do, all my competitors used the extra height and went faster. And there is another day of competition still to go. So I’m last. Which sucks.
So there you go. As a day, it’s one I’ll remember. On the upside, I broke the 100mph barrier, represented Britain for skiing, beat experienced speed skiers in a World Cup race, met Richard Branson (all be it briefly), I don’t have to spend 2 hours waxing my skis tonight and can get absolutely shitfaced. On the downside, I was improving every run (and getting personal best’s every time – based on the other guy’s 2nd run I could have been in the 167kph / 103 mph area already, with even more tomorrow), and I had just missed out on a rags to riches opportunity of a lifetime – all I wanted to do was not come last, and I had been sitting 15th out of 21!
I sat there, on my own, revelling in my misery on the lift down, until I had a bit of an epiphany. This was always going to be a long shot. I had one pair of second hand skis to race on, most other guys are sponsored, have several pairs for different conditions (one guy has 11 at this comp alone). I had learnt to wax and tune a ski for speed for the first time 2 days ago, had never had any ski race training whatsoever, let alone speed skiing and was truly “winging it”. Being realistic, I probably had more bravery than was than strictly sensible, and not enough skill to match it. Or as my dad would describe it “more balls than brains”. I alwways wanted to do this, and it was the chance of a lifetime, but I am realistic and there was always the chance that this could go horribly wrong at some point (no doubt at over 100mph), and it didn’t. For that I should be grateful. So I’m not pissed off. I’ll be gutted when I look up the hill tomorrow and see the rest of the guys do their stuff. But I’ll probably have a terrible hangover to go with it….
Benja
Photo below is the results - I was drawn number 58. 45-66 (in the red box) are in my class - Men's Downhill.
