Category: XCFeeds

After a long week of training, we stowed our rollerskis and headed out for a Saturday evening of local culture.  We found said culture at the Seigsdorf Gartenfest, an annual party put on by the town out in some farm fields at the high point of the village.  It was quite a scene, definitely picture-worthy, and if I had remembered to bring my camera to Europe, I would have taken many pictures.  Instead, you will have to use your imagination… Just visualize about a hundred of  the dudes you see above.  We were definitely a little out of place without lederhosen.

The night was clear and warm and we spent a good few hours hanging out sampling the local food and drink while the brass band plaid Bavarian folk songs.  At some point, we found our way out of the crowd and headed for the good ‘ol Fritz Am Sand Gasthof where we have been staying the past few weeks.

I had the chance to head up to one of the local lakes on Sunday and go swimming.  I couldn’t believe how many people were out on a Sunday afternoon.  I know these lakes pretty well as I have been skiing around them in the winter many times.  But that afternoon, they were totally different.  I think it might be due to the fact that there really aren’t any beaches near here so apparently everyone in town just heads to the lake.  I think there must have been two hundred people lounging around and/or swimming.  Anyway, it was a good relaxing off-day, but now we are back to work skiing and shooting.

-LB

After a long week of training, we stowed our rollerskis and headed out for a Saturday evening of local culture.  We found said culture at the Seigsdorf Gartenfest, an annual party put on by the town out in some farm fields at the high point of the village.  It was quite a scene, definitely picture-worthy, and if I had remembered to bring my camera to Europe, I would have taken many pictures.  Instead, you will have to use your imagination… Just visualize about a hundred of  the dudes you see above.  We were definitely a little out of place without lederhosen.

The night was clear and warm and we spent a good few hours hanging out sampling the local food and drink while the brass band plaid Bavarian folk songs.  At some point, we found our way out of the crowd and headed for the good ‘ol Fritz Am Sand Gasthof where we have been staying the past few weeks.

I had the chance to head up to one of the local lakes on Sunday and go swimming.  I couldn’t believe how many people were out on a Sunday afternoon.  I know these lakes pretty well as I have been skiing around them in the winter many times.  But that afternoon, they were totally different.  I think it might be due to the fact that there really aren’t any beaches near here so apparently everyone in town just heads to the lake.  I think there must have been two hundred people lounging around and/or swimming.  Anyway, it was a good relaxing off-day, but now we are back to work skiing and shooting.

-LB

After a long week of training, we stowed our rollerskis and headed out for a Saturday evening of local culture.  We found said culture at the Seigsdorf Gartenfest, an annual party put on by the town out in some farm fields at the high point of the village.  It was quite a scene, definitely picture-worthy, and if I had remembered to bring my camera to Europe, I would have taken many pictures.  Instead, you will have to use your imagination… Just visualize about a hundred of  the dudes you see above.  We were definitely a little out of place without lederhosen.

The night was clear and warm and we spent a good few hours hanging out sampling the local food and drink while the brass band plaid Bavarian folk songs.  At some point, we found our way out of the crowd and headed for the good ‘ol Fritz Am Sand Gasthof where we have been staying the past few weeks.

I had the chance to head up to one of the local lakes on Sunday and go swimming.  I couldn’t believe how many people were out on a Sunday afternoon.  I know these lakes pretty well as I have been skiing around them in the winter many times.  But that afternoon, they were totally different.  I think it might be due to the fact that there really aren’t any beaches near here so apparently everyone in town just heads to the lake.  I think there must have been two hundred people lounging around and/or swimming.  Anyway, it was a good relaxing off-day, but now we are back to work skiing and shooting.

-LB

After a long week of training, we stowed our rollerskis and headed out for a Saturday evening of local culture.  We found said culture at the Seigsdorf Gartenfest, an annual party put on by the town out in some farm fields at the high point of the village.  It was quite a scene, definitely picture-worthy, and if I had remembered to bring my camera to Europe, I would have taken many pictures.  Instead, you will have to use your imagination… Just visualize about a hundred of  the dudes you see above.  We were definitely a little out of place without lederhosen.

The night was clear and warm and we spent a good few hours hanging out sampling the local food and drink while the brass band plaid Bavarian folk songs.  At some point, we found our way out of the crowd and headed for the good ‘ol Fritz Am Sand Gasthof where we have been staying the past few weeks.

I had the chance to head up to one of the local lakes on Sunday and go swimming.  I couldn’t believe how many people were out on a Sunday afternoon.  I know these lakes pretty well as I have been skiing around them in the winter many times.  But that afternoon, they were totally different.  I think it might be due to the fact that there really aren’t any beaches near here so apparently everyone in town just heads to the lake.  I think there must have been two hundred people lounging around and/or swimming.  Anyway, it was a good relaxing off-day, but now we are back to work skiing and shooting.

-LB

In the morning hours, Bettina and I meet up with Zoe for a trek to the top of Mt. Olympus. While I don’t meet Zeus at the top, the view suffices. It’s then that the words from the morning’s National Public Radio show “All Things Considered” come to life.

“Despite the headings and allure of some other place whose name I have now forgotten, I stay in Salt Lake. I try to leave but it seems like I have a rubber band attached. What is it that pulls me back? No place is more beautiful than the Salt Lake Valley. Other places are just as beautiful, but when it comes down to a contest, this place wins.

“Beauty is something that needs to be studied over a long period of time, and there needs to be some point of reference – these clouds over these mountains, compared to what? The city itself has the most admirable quality of a ghost town, dry as a bone and empty as a rattle. People are leaving for a better life on the Coast. I, however, wait for the coast to come to me. I get up in the hills behind my house, look out across the entire valley and see it covered by water, as it was only ten thousand years ago. I extend my arm and wave my hand across the inland sea and think, ‘Someday my son, all of this will be yours.’” Right now, I can see the truth to Scott Carrier’s words.

After a couple more minutes breathing in oxygen and the view, I open the mailbox, crack the cover open on a well-worn brown leather book left atop the mountain. Inside are literally a thousand different stories. Or at least five hundred. Reading gives me the idea to write. It will be a great story, with the words others leave behind in books like this weaving the fabric of the work.

Some of the writings are common and slightly scientific with the date, time and name of the summiteers and little else. Some others, like the one about running face to face with a Western Diamondback en route have a quality of humor that would make most essayists blush. The one I remember most is sad and spooky, though in the tenderest way.

Mr. B has made it to the top of the mountain, his final summit. Soon, Mr. B will be in a long slumber, dreaming of the lions. This isn’t a sad story because Mr. B has lived a good life. He knows it and has shared his happiness with others. Like mud, Mr. B soon awaits his return to dust.

Afterwards, we jump a fence, then jump directly into a poorly attended hotel pool. The water’s refreshing and much needed before tackling the concrete jungle that awaits.

In the Westminster College parking lot, it’s decided. New Hampshire’s Live Free or Die license plate has nothing on Wyoming’s. The Lone Cowboy riding the bucking bronc, a black silouette on brown mountains and mesa’s cannot be beat by the Granite State or any of the other forty-eight states. I stop by the university bookstore, pick up seven used books as Bettina and I get to witness the one true great American right of passage.

On campus, I’m greeted by student RN’s in loud green shirts. Kids much too young to be heading off to college mill around, a look on their faces matched with the just realizing understanding Dad slipped them a couple Andrew Jackson’s to hold them over before the college cafeteria opens on Monday. And no matter how many Hot Pockets they plan to consume from now until then, there will be plenty of extra bucks to blow on booze, if only they had a fake i.d. Or knew someone older, as just about everyone around them is eighteen as well. On the way to the bookstore, I swing through some social schindig, steal about a half a pineapple in slices and a cup of punch on a hot summer’s day. Yes, it’s the simple things in life.

Then it hits me. Five years and a couple more days ago, I started coaching these kids what I knew about track and field, but mostly track, at Eastmont Junior High School. Now those kids are either heading off to college or hitting hammer to nail. Hannah and Jake, Cristian and Khloe, all heading off into different directions throughout the west, like dust in the the wind, just waiting to be turned to mud.

In the morning hours, Bettina and I meet up with Zoe for a trek to the top of Mt. Olympus. While I don’t meet Zeus at the top, the view suffices. It’s then that the words from the morning’s National Public Radio show “All Things Considered” come to life.

“Despite the headings and allure of some other place whose name I have now forgotten, I stay in Salt Lake. I try to leave but it seems like I have a rubber band attached. What is it that pulls me back? No place is more beautiful than the Salt Lake Valley. Other places are just as beautiful, but when it comes down to a contest, this place wins.

“Beauty is something that needs to be studied over a long period of time, and there needs to be some point of reference – these clouds over these mountains, compared to what? The city itself has the most admirable quality of a ghost town, dry as a bone and empty as a rattle. People are leaving for a better life on the Coast. I, however, wait for the coast to come to me. I get up in the hills behind my house, look out across the entire valley and see it covered by water, as it was only ten thousand years ago. I extend my arm and wave my hand across the inland sea and think, ‘Someday my son, all of this will be yours.’” Right now, I can see the truth to Scott Carrier’s words.

After a couple more minutes breathing in oxygen and the view, I open the mailbox, crack the cover open on a well-worn brown leather book left atop the mountain. Inside are literally a thousand different stories. Or at least five hundred. Reading gives me the idea to write. It will be a great story, with the words others leave behind in books like this weaving the fabric of the work.

Some of the writings are common and slightly scientific with the date, time and name of the summiteers and little else. Some others, like the one about running face to face with a Western Diamondback en route have a quality of humor that would make most essayists blush. The one I remember most is sad and spooky, though in the tenderest way.

Mr. B has made it to the top of the mountain, his final summit. Soon, Mr. B will be in a long slumber, dreaming of the lions. This isn’t a sad story because Mr. B has lived a good life. He knows it and has shared his happiness with others. Like mud, Mr. B soon awaits his return to dust.

Afterwards, we jump a fence, then jump directly into a poorly attended hotel pool. The water’s refreshing and much needed before tackling the concrete jungle that awaits.

In the Westminster College parking lot, it’s decided. New Hampshire’s Live Free or Die license plate has nothing on Wyoming’s. The Lone Cowboy riding the bucking bronc, a black silouette on brown mountains and mesa’s cannot be beat by the Granite State or any of the other forty-eight states. I stop by the university bookstore, pick up seven used books as Bettina and I get to witness the one true great American right of passage.

On campus, I’m greeted by student RN’s in loud green shirts. Kids much too young to be heading off to college mill around, a look on their faces matched with the just realizing understanding Dad slipped them a couple Andrew Jackson’s to hold them over before the college cafeteria opens on Monday. And no matter how many Hot Pockets they plan to consume from now until then, there will be plenty of extra bucks to blow on booze, if only they had a fake i.d. Or knew someone older, as just about everyone around them is eighteen as well. On the way to the bookstore, I swing through some social schindig, steal about a half a pineapple in slices and a cup of punch on a hot summer’s day. Yes, it’s the simple things in life.

Then it hits me. Five years and a couple more days ago, I started coaching these kids what I knew about track and field, but mostly track, at Eastmont Junior High School. Now those kids are either heading off to college or hitting hammer to nail. Hannah and Jake, Cristian and Khloe, all heading off into different directions throughout the west, like dust in the the wind, just waiting to be turned to mud.

In the morning hours, Bettina and I meet up with Zoe for a trek to the top of Mt. Olympus. While I don’t meet Zeus at the top, the view suffices. It’s then that the words from the morning’s National Public Radio show “All Things Considered” come to life.

“Despite the headings and allure of some other place whose name I have now forgotten, I stay in Salt Lake. I try to leave but it seems like I have a rubber band attached. What is it that pulls me back? No place is more beautiful than the Salt Lake Valley. Other places are just as beautiful, but when it comes down to a contest, this place wins.

“Beauty is something that needs to be studied over a long period of time, and there needs to be some point of reference – these clouds over these mountains, compared to what? The city itself has the most admirable quality of a ghost town, dry as a bone and empty as a rattle. People are leaving for a better life on the Coast. I, however, wait for the coast to come to me. I get up in the hills behind my house, look out across the entire valley and see it covered by water, as it was only ten thousand years ago. I extend my arm and wave my hand across the inland sea and think, ‘Someday my son, all of this will be yours.’” Right now, I can see the truth to Scott Carrier’s words.

After a couple more minutes breathing in oxygen and the view, I open the mailbox, crack the cover open on a well-worn brown leather book left atop the mountain. Inside are literally a thousand different stories. Or at least five hundred. Reading gives me the idea to write. It will be a great story, with the words others leave behind in books like this weaving the fabric of the work.

Some of the writings are common and slightly scientific with the date, time and name of the summiteers and little else. Some others, like the one about running face to face with a Western Diamondback en route have a quality of humor that would make most essayists blush. The one I remember most is sad and spooky, though in the tenderest way.

Mr. B has made it to the top of the mountain, his final summit. Soon, Mr. B will be in a long slumber, dreaming of the lions. This isn’t a sad story because Mr. B has lived a good life. He knows it and has shared his happiness with others. Like mud, Mr. B soon awaits his return to dust.

Afterwards, we jump a fence, then jump directly into a poorly attended hotel pool. The water’s refreshing and much needed before tackling the concrete jungle that awaits.

In the Westminster College parking lot, it’s decided. New Hampshire’s Live Free or Die license plate has nothing on Wyoming’s. The Lone Cowboy riding the bucking bronc, a black silouette on brown mountains and mesa’s cannot be beat by the Granite State or any of the other forty-eight states. I stop by the university bookstore, pick up seven used books as Bettina and I get to witness the one true great American right of passage.

On campus, I’m greeted by student RN’s in loud green shirts. Kids much too young to be heading off to college mill around, a look on their faces matched with the just realizing understanding Dad slipped them a couple Andrew Jackson’s to hold them over before the college cafeteria opens on Monday. And no matter how many Hot Pockets they plan to consume from now until then, there will be plenty of extra bucks to blow on booze, if only they had a fake i.d. Or knew someone older, as just about everyone around them is eighteen as well. On the way to the bookstore, I swing through some social schindig, steal about a half a pineapple in slices and a cup of punch on a hot summer’s day. Yes, it’s the simple things in life.

Then it hits me. Five years and a couple more days ago, I started coaching these kids what I knew about track and field, but mostly track, at Eastmont Junior High School. Now those kids are either heading off to college or hitting hammer to nail. Hannah and Jake, Cristian and Khloe, all heading off into different directions throughout the west, like dust in the the wind, just waiting to be turned to mud.

Last night the campers entertained us with their skits. The older boys showed us an interesting stretching routine.

These girls spoofed Matt, Kate and Sverre with an SMS visitor.

I’m not sure what this group was doing!

BKL lollipop race.

Teamwork.

younger girls.

Waxing???

Goofing..

All smiles.

We finished our camp this morning with a combi roll/run OD. Everyone started with a 1-1:45 ski, switched to running shoes and ran hiked up over the mtn.























heading up towards Grout pond.

Nate works on a quicker kick by following Sophie.

Shoes waiting in eager anticipation.



The “exchange”.





Mid workout snack compliments of Power Bar.

Heading out for the run/hike.

Farewell shot.

See “Rainpolding” for contrast…

Greetings from SUNNY Bavaria! The first week of the Europe camp has flown by, and though the weather is always a worry, Ruhpolding has been cooperating fully by giving us bright, sunny days and thundering only at night. It’s been a great start!

So far, the team has been spending a lot of time on the roller loop at the Chiemgau Arena (where this season’s World Championships will be held) and running, biking and rollerskiing all around the Ruhpolding area. Thursday, we went on a 5 hour long bike/kayak excursion that took us into Austria and then over to the famed Chiemsee Lake before we circled back for delicious lunch.

Annelies getting ready for the kayak section of our adventure.



Biking in Bavaria…

Enjoying a well-earned Bavarian lunch post-bike!

Yesterday, after some technique combo work, we ran from the venue through a beautiful valley, ending at a ski resort hut where we had a quick snack while taking in the view before driving back to our hotel. This is an amazing place to train, not only because the people seem to think biathlon practice is a spectator event (it’s amazing how many people are in the stands just to watch us do L1 combos…and of course by “us” I mean Andrea Henkel and Magdalena Neuner), but also because of the sheer number of trails and roads just out the door for running and biking. It’s no wonder Germans excel at many sports – the atmosphere is just so conducive!

Andrea Henkel signing autographs while out at dinner.

This coming week will be our last in Ruhpolding. It will be a big week, including a time trial with the Italian, Slovenian, German B team, and Russian teams, and a much smaller hill climb time trial at the end of the week. It will be interesting to see how things shake out! Then off to Oberhof for some skiing in the ski tunnel there. It should be a great couple weeks!

See “Rainpolding” for contrast…

Greetings from SUNNY Bavaria! The first week of the Europe camp has flown by, and though the weather is always a worry, Ruhpolding has been cooperating fully by giving us bright, sunny days and thundering only at night. It’s been a great start!

So far, the team has been spending a lot of time on the roller loop at the Chiemgau Arena (where this season’s World Championships will be held) and running, biking and rollerskiing all around the Ruhpolding area. Thursday, we went on a 5 hour long bike/kayak excursion that took us into Austria and then over to the famed Chiemsee Lake before we circled back for delicious lunch.

Annelies getting ready for the kayak section of our adventure.



Biking in Bavaria…

Enjoying a well-earned Bavarian lunch post-bike!

Yesterday, after some technique combo work, we ran from the venue through a beautiful valley, ending at a ski resort hut where we had a quick snack while taking in the view before driving back to our hotel. This is an amazing place to train, not only because the people seem to think biathlon practice is a spectator event (it’s amazing how many people are in the stands just to watch us do L1 combos…and of course by “us” I mean Andrea Henkel and Magdalena Neuner), but also because of the sheer number of trails and roads just out the door for running and biking. It’s no wonder Germans excel at many sports – the atmosphere is just so conducive!

Andrea Henkel signing autographs while out at dinner.

This coming week will be our last in Ruhpolding. It will be a big week, including a time trial with the Italian, Slovenian, German B team, and Russian teams, and a much smaller hill climb time trial at the end of the week. It will be interesting to see how things shake out! Then off to Oberhof for some skiing in the ski tunnel there. It should be a great couple weeks!

See “Rainpolding” for contrast…

Greetings from SUNNY Bavaria! The first week of the Europe camp has flown by, and though the weather is always a worry, Ruhpolding has been cooperating fully by giving us bright, sunny days and thundering only at night. It’s been a great start!

So far, the team has been spending a lot of time on the roller loop at the Chiemgau Arena (where this season’s World Championships will be held) and running, biking and rollerskiing all around the Ruhpolding area. Thursday, we went on a 5 hour long bike/kayak excursion that took us into Austria and then over to the famed Chiemsee Lake before we circled back for delicious lunch.

Annelies getting ready for the kayak section of our adventure.



Biking in Bavaria…

Enjoying a well-earned Bavarian lunch post-bike!

Yesterday, after some technique combo work, we ran from the venue through a beautiful valley, ending at a ski resort hut where we had a quick snack while taking in the view before driving back to our hotel. This is an amazing place to train, not only because the people seem to think biathlon practice is a spectator event (it’s amazing how many people are in the stands just to watch us do L1 combos…and of course by “us” I mean Andrea Henkel and Magdalena Neuner), but also because of the sheer number of trails and roads just out the door for running and biking. It’s no wonder Germans excel at many sports – the atmosphere is just so conducive!

Andrea Henkel signing autographs while out at dinner.

This coming week will be our last in Ruhpolding. It will be a big week, including a time trial with the Italian, Slovenian, German B team, and Russian teams, and a much smaller hill climb time trial at the end of the week. It will be interesting to see how things shake out! Then off to Oberhof for some skiing in the ski tunnel there. It should be a great couple weeks!