Tag: Project Langrenn

  • Project Langrenn: Beaten by the Girls

    Project Langrenn: Beaten by the Girls

    Sprint workout at Holmenkollen. (Photo: Ola Kvisle)

     

    Project Langrenn is a series by Maks Zechel. Zechel has been training and racing in Norway for the last several years after concluding his junior racing career in Canada. Zechel is part of Norway’s Team Norconsult and will be writing about his experience for FasterSkier.

    Project Langrenn: Beaten by the Girls

    “100% of me is nothing compared to 1% of the entire team.” -Eliud Kipchoge, marathon world record holder.

     

    You don’t have to come to Norway to train as well as the Norwegians, although I wish everyone could. It would be incredible if every North American could have the experience that I have had. There are so many talented skiers back home who would improve far more than even I have while living here, but I don’t think that is the solution to making Canadian and American skiing more competitive. I am extraordinarily fortunate to have had so many special development opportunities as a skier. Not everyone has the means to go to the places that I have. However I think it is important that everyone, myself included, take advantage of what they have in front of them and create their own development opportunities. Just because Jessie Diggins isn’t your training partner, doesn’t mean you can’t learn just as much from your other teammates.

    In Canada a big issue in skiing is the lack of training partners, especially for women. A lack of training partners doesn’t just mean fewer people to push you in training, but more importantly, less people to learn from and fewer training avenues that end up explored. We’re lucky to be neighbours with the US which has built a women’s team that ranks as one of the strongest and deepest in the world. However both Canada and the US are massive countries, and it is difficult for large, competitive, female training groups to gather regularly.

    On that note, I think one of the biggest missed opportunities is that more women don’t train with men close to their own level. There is a socially ingrained divide in men’s and women’s sports: men naturally have a physical advantage in many sports, women are perhaps intimidated to train with men, men are afraid of losing to women and women receive less opportunities. But this barrier doesn’t have to exist. If a top Canadian woman wants to know what it’s like to ski at a similar speed to Therese Johaug or Maiken Caspersen Falla, then try hanging on to one of the top Canadian men in intervals. I was seventh in the 50k classic at Canadian Nationals this past March, a minute and a half back the winner, but last November my 5km splits in the 15k at the Norwegian National Opening in Beitostølen were slower than those of Therese Johaug in the 10k. I was four minutes back from race-winner and World Champion, Sjur Røthe, so I wasn’t skiing poorly either. To beat Johaug’s splits that day, your final time had to be within 2:45 min of Røthe.

    I think both men and women need to swallow their pride and make efforts to push each other in training more often, especially in intervals. We’re so few as it is, that we suffer if we fail to learn from everyone, regardless of gender or ability. It might not be as inspiring for a senior woman to do intervals with a fast 16-year-old boy than it would be to train with another good female skier, but she will likely be pushed just as hard.

    “Boys often have higher speed than us girls and I get to practise at that speed by using slightly faster wheels on my rollerskis. Boys have good technique and by skiing behind them I get to practise skiing with better technique.” -Hedda Østberg Amundsen, Team Norconsult. 18th in the 30k at World Cup Holmenkollen in 2019 as a 20-year-old.

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    Women aren’t the only ones with something to gain here. This past week my teammates and I on Team Norconsult did a sprint workout, which followed the traditional sprint format with an individual start qualifying round and three heats. Instead of being bumped out in the heats, the person who came last moved down to a slower heat, and the person who won the heat moved up to a faster heat. We have two women on our team, Silje Øyre Slind (known on World Cup for rolling up her sleeves in races like her two sisters) and Hedda Østberg Amundsen (previously known for being related to her twin brother, World Junior Champion Harald, and now herself known for being a top-20 World Cup skier). My friend Ryan and I ended up in the third heat after qualifying slowest of all the men on the team, and just a few seconds ahead of the women.

    We raced against Silje and Hedda for three heats. They had decided to do this workout with faster rollerski wheels than the men, so that they could work on racing in a pack instead of just doing the workout by themselves. I lost to both of them in every single heat. It was a hard pill to swallow, and before the heats we all joked about how they had everything to win, while we had everything to lose.

    That wasn’t true. Here I was racing head-to-head with a World Cup silver medalist and a Norwegian Cup champion. Sure, they’re not as fast as the top men, even with faster wheels, but they ski with the same winning mentality. They’re still better skiers than me, even though I am naturally stronger. I have an incredible amount to learn from them, if only I have the balls to admit it.

    We’re only limited by how much or how little we chose to work together. My roommate/teammate, Ryan, and I figured this out quite quickly once we moved to Norway together. If we kept what we learned to ourselves, we limited how much we improved by half. Every time I told Ryan about something I was working on, he would have something to tell me that I hadn’t thought of. Share a lesson with your teammates and you’ll receive many in return, I guarantee it. By putting aside our pride and our desire to have an edge on one another by keeping things from each other, we both grew exponentially more. I became more confident in myself as I realized that worrying about what everyone else was doing was only affecting me negatively. Helping my teammates get better, on the other hand, could only improve my own chances of success.

    Eliud Kipchoge, Kenyan marathon world record holder, competes in one of the most solitary of sporting events, but his success is the product of exceptional teamwork. Kipchoge is in a class of his own as he continues to attempt to break the two hour barrier in the marathon. To break that barrier, or even attempt it, he must have complete confidence in himself to run alone at unprecedented speeds. One might think that this means he trains alone all the time, but quite the opposite is true. Kipchoge believes in the strength of his team, and that by training (and often living) together, they can achieve far more than they could individually. His mindset reflects what I’ve learned from being around the best skiers on my team. The best and most confident athletes aren’t those that hinder those around them in an effort to win. The best athletes are those that recognize that by helping those around them to improve, they also increase their own potential for improvement. The best athletes are confident enough that they see possibilities for improvement in their teammates, instead of feeling threatened.

    That’s why it doesn’t matter when Kipchoge runs alone in a race, because he’s not alone. He would never have gotten to where he is without learning from and being pushed by his teammates. Whether he’s on an empty road or surrounded by competitors, he is equally confident in himself, because by trusting in his teammates, Kipchoge always has the affirmations of an entire team that he is good enough to achieve his goals. The confidence that he receives from his teammates might come in the form of words of encouragement. It could come from being able to hang onto a fast teammate in a workout. Or it can come from simply knowing that his own abilities have been explored further by learning from teammates who are each superior in a unique aspect of the sport. This is worth far more than any amount of self-conceived confidence he could have.

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    I’ve just lost the ride of my life at the most critical point in the race. A biathlete unknown to me had just pulled myself and another skier around the 5km loop in Nes, Norway, for a blistering 2nd lap of my 15k. After 8km, I was still getting splits off of Vebjorn Heggedal, a Norwegian prodigy just back racing after two years of overtraining. With one lap to go, we were tied, but I had just lost my ride and was now trailing 30m behind the skier in the yellow suit who had barely been hanging on to me a kilometer before.

    I pull it together coming into the lap lane. I remind myself of a hard interval workout I did in Sjusjøen during the fall, where I hung onto my teammate, Erland, until he flew away effortlessly on a slight downhill. I kick myself out of my mid-race-grind-stupor and lengthen out on a fast flat. One, two, three, four explosive kicks later and I’m back with yellow-suit. All of a sudden everything feels easier as I slow down into his draft. Closing gaps on fast terrain costs so much less than it does on the uphills. Pulled along by the skier’s draft now, I make sure every move I make is better than his, saving energy everywhere that he doesn’t.

    It’s just a few kilometers to go when I hear a racer coming up fast behind us. He’s just starting his first lap now, so based on seeding he must be much faster than me. I begin taking deep breaths, as if I’m about to dive underwater, preparing myself for what I must inevitably attempt. Before he blows by us I’m already accelerating, so that as he passes I’m able to decelerate into his draft, making the pace change seem more manageable. If I can hang onto Erland, a podium contender in a race like this, I can hang onto this guy. We’re flying now, and I’m so focused that I barely notice that the pace suddenly seems…too easy. I don’t hesitate, seizing the momentum, and I surprise myself by easily dropping my ride. Now it’s all me as I push for home, coach Ola yelling in my ear on my way to the finish. Do not take Clenbuterol after 4:00 pm to avoid sleep problems. This is valid for all days, including non-training days. On training days, the tablets should be taken 30-45 minutes before training. We recommend you to check all clenbuterol dosages and brands chart. The tablets can be taken for up to 6 weeks (up to 8 if used with Ketotifen), after which a pause should be made for a month. Clenbuterol is used medicinally as a bronchodilator. I end up in the top 50, beating my personal best Norwegian Cup result by over 40 positions. Raised up by my teammates even when they weren’t present.

    Norwegian Phrase of the Week:

    Norwegian: Gode sammen.

    English: Good together. The Norwegian motto.

    This blog will be updated monthly with details from my experiences in Norway and what I am doing for training. Training exactly the way I do won’t make anyone else fast, but I hope that others can learn from the trial and error of my own training. For updates on all of my workouts, as they happen, view my stories on Instagram (@makszechel) or watch for my posts on Twitter (@projectlangrenn).

    Maks Zechel in the ski tunnel in Torsby, Sweden. (Courtesy photo)
  • Project Langrenn: Maks Zechel

    Project Langrenn: Maks Zechel

    Project Langrenn

     

    Project Langrenn is a series by Maks Zechel. Zechel has been training and racing in Norway for the last several years after concluding his junior racing career in Canada. Zechel is part of Norway’s Team Norconsult and will be writing about his experience for FasterSkier. 

    Team Norconsult at a training camp in Norefjell, Norway 2018. (picture by Ådne Birkeland)

    I had unwavering confidence in myself as a kid. Ever since I started racing as an eleven-year-old, I’ve never doubted myself. I’m not sure why—I grew up in Kingston, Ontario, a city with mild winters because of its location on the shores of Lake Ontario. In a hockey town, I was the kid who liked running around outside in spandex.

    You need a lot of imagination and motivation to be a skier from Kingston, and I had every reason to have doubt in my future as a ski racer. I don’t recommend it as a course of development for any young skier; even now I have trouble visualizing myself training at that age. Picture an eleven-year-old (children at that age are like two feet tall…) heading out the door at 7 am for a run before school, getting home and stretching on the front steps, then coming inside and writing it all down in a training journal. I’m surprised the neighbors never called the cops.

    One morning I clearly remember running my usual 3k loop and being very frustrated when I didn’t run a personal best time that day. My PB was somewhere around twelve minutes (I’m not sure how accurate that loop was…), and this time it had taken me over 15 minutes. It didn’t really click for me that running through a foot of snow would have an effect on my running times.

    I never doubted myself. Not until I was 17 years old. That season I competed in the Canadian qualification races for the World Junior Championships. Although not technically a junior man yet, I raced up and performed quite well, coming seventh in my best race, just a few seconds shy of fourth. I remember sitting in the car on the way home, feeling relief wash over me as I passed out in the back seat. I had wanted to impress in those races in the hope of making the Junior National Team the following year.

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    “I did it,” was all I thought. If I was this good now, I would surely qualify for World Juniors next year.

    I felt something else too, something other than relief. It felt heavier than just the fatigue of a hard race weekend. I felt exhausted like something had snapped, and a small part of me feared that I would never be able to repeat those “near perfect” races again.

    Over the next two years, I never achieved a better result at World Junior trials.

    I finished my junior career completely devastated. I felt like a burnt-out failure. I went from being one of the top skiers in the country for my age and having top grades at school, to redefining again and again what rock bottom in both athletics and academics could mean for me. Nothing else mattered, yet at the same time, I couldn’t muster the drive I once had. “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars,” they say. Nope, I hadn’t even made it through the atmosphere and had already crash landed back on earth in a fiery wreck. Thanks, physics.

    I no longer believed in myself. I didn’t understand anything about my training or why I wasn’t racing fast. I struggled a great deal with my mental health, and among other things, believed I wasn’t physically talented enough to succeed as a cross country skier.

    Going into my first year as a senior, I decided to make some changes. I began with trying to understand myself better, and for a couple of months I saw a fantastic psychologist in Ottawa. I then looked for new development opportunities, and after exchanging some emails with the head coach of a small club in Norway, I moved a few thousand kilometers from home and joined Asker Skiklubb. I was tired of not knowing how to get faster, and so I decided to go right to the home of some of the best skiers in the world to learn from them. If they couldn’t show me how to ski fast, then no one could.

    What I learned in my first year in Norway, blew my mind. Even the youngest athletes on my team, a few years younger than me, already had an impressive sense of how their bodies responded to training and what they had to do to become better. Everyone I trained with wrote their own training programs, something that was nigh unheard of back home. I also began writing my own plan, and that’s when the learning began in earnest. More importantly, I built up confidence in myself, not by believing harder, but by learning that there were things I could do to get faster.

    I’ve made huge improvements as a skier in the almost two years since I moved to Norway. I’ve also made more mistakes in training than I did in the previous nine years combined, but that’s the only way to learn. My first year here I think I made about 95% of all the mistakes I possibly could have made. Going into my second season, I thought I had it all figured out. I made even bigger improvements, going from struggling to crack the top 130 on Norwegian Cups and being five minutes off the winner on an incredible day, to coming 48th in my best Norwegian Cup 15k of the year, just 2:35min back. I was also sick for 46 days and often pushed my body at the wrong times. I still felt like I was making one mistake for every success I had in training, but I don’t regret anything. I was pushing my boundaries, exceeding them, and learning.

    Now I’m starting my third season in Norway and my second season training with Team Norconsult, a private team based out of Asker where I have been given the opportunity of a lifetime to train with some of Norway’s most promising young skiers. Four of my teammates declined offers from the Norwegian National Recruit Team this year. This is pretty much unheard of, and there was a big article published to NRK (Norway’s national news publication) where various World Cup skiing “experts” weighed in on what these decisions meant for the future of skiing in Norway. Whoa.

    It’s special for me to be here, but it’s not something that every skier can do, and what sometimes keeps me up at night is the fact that I’m not back in Canada doing my part in making Canadian skiing more competitive. I don’t pretend to be a critical part of Canadian skiing, but in a country where the field of senior men is rarely more than 30, everyone racing plays an important part in the top results that our best skiers achieve internationally. However, I believe that I am able to make more of a difference for Canada by being in Norway right now. Seeing how the Norwegians train makes me realize how much potential we have in North America, if only we are willing to try new things.

    To do that we need to work together more and make knowledge about high-level ski racing easily available to everyone. I moved to Norway barely believing that I was physically gifted enough to succeed as a skier anymore. Now I don’t believe in that crap, not because I was told by someone that “I can do anything if only I believe hard enough”, but because of the many unique individuals I have seen in Norway race at a high level because of the way they trained. Not because of how they were born.

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    North Americans love “miracles” and underdogs who make the impossible happen. Who doesn’t love that? But believing extra hard in yourself on the day of a race doesn’t take you from a top 80 to a top 30 on World Cup. In Norway it isn’t a superior level of passion for skiing or a secret interval workout that makes everyone ski fast—it’s creative, smart and purposeful training that each athlete has figured out for themselves with the help of an entire community. It’s something that North Americans can do too.

    I might not have the results yet to give other skiers reason to instantly believe in what I am doing, but that doesn’t mean what I have learned is not valuable. My everyday training environment is one of shared learning and development with a large group of incredibly fast (and very human) skiers. That’s why I have started Project Langrenn (langrenn is Norwegian for “cross country skiing”) because my current situation is one that I could never have arrived to without a great deal of help and support (and some luck). I have a responsibility to give back to everyone that isn’t able to have these experiences.

    The goal of Project Langrenn is to spread the culture of knowledge-sharing in cross country skiing that has made Team Norconsult, and Norway as a skiing nation, so successful. The most recent World Championships in Seefeld should have been a wake-up call to the rest of the world—not a call to set further restrictions on the number of support staff that Norway can have at races in an effort to hinder their domination of the podium—but a call that something has to be done to increase the competitiveness of the international field. We don’t do this by slowing down those that are best. We do this by learning from the best and then beating them at their own game. A skiing world dominated by Norway will not survive. Norway knows this and has made commendable efforts to close the gap by, among other things, funding a yearly international junior training camp in Norway. I think it’s time we did our part to get better as well.

    This blog will be updated monthly with details from my experiences in Norway and what I am doing for training. I’m not planning on holding anything back in the hopes of having a competitive edge over others, because I know that the faster the entire continent gets, the faster I can get too. Training exactly the way I do won’t make anyone else fast, but I hope that others can learn from the trial and error of my own training. For updates on all of my workouts, as they happen, view my stories on Instagram (@makszechel) or watch for my posts on Twitter (@projectlangrenn).

    Maks Zechel in the ski tunnel in Torsby, Sweden. (Courtesy photo)