It has been approximately 18,691,200,000 milliseconds since I've been in this position. That would be some 216 days and about 8 hours since I've sat on a luge at the start of junior entry on the Lake Placid track. My last three runs, more than 6 months ago, were all personal bests, culminating in a 46.153 second trip down the course. This evening, as I manipulate my face shield with my thumbs and little fingers to fit properly on my helmet, I hear and feel my pulse race as if this were the first time that I had ever done this.
As I rock back and forth in the blocks on the same pod, my mind poses more questions than answers. "Can I replicate last spring's runs?" and more importantly "Do I remember what not to do, so that I don't crash (and burn)?" Not exactly the thoughts I expected to have, but... FORWARD!!!!
I paddle a couple times, not really trying to dig in hard, but rather to re-familiarize myself with the movement. Wow, this is strange sensation. As I drop onto the pod, turn 9 is already looming, and I grasp the outside edges of the sled, with my gloved hands. As I try to navigate the turn, by pressing my right calf onto the kufin, the pod climbs a little too high on the outside of turn, and then uncermonously directs me into the wall on the opposite side of the track. Not exactly the start I had imagined just last week.
Banking right through Shady 2, I drop the thirty vertical feet along the short straightway into the first turn of the Labyrinth. Not bad. I exit the turn in the middle of track. In Turn 12, I zip past Fred Zimny, our USLA coach for the session, who is standing at the end of the public entry ramp. While he is safely out of the way, it still is disconcerting having someone on the track proper, rather than on the side of the track itself.
At this point, I roll my head in preparation for the next left turn. I exit the Turn 13 early and enter into Bendham's bend. A minor adjustment. I exit into the long straight away that is the Chicane. I lay my head back, trying to resist the urge to slide like I drive car, by raising my head so that I can look forward to anticipate the next turn. I stare up at the middle of the track cover, remembering the positional relationship between where the sled is on the track and the entry point into Turn 17. Wow. A gentle touch of the kufin, and a smooth exit out of the turn, and I am feeling really good about the run. In and out of 18 and 19 without incident.
Sliding up the out ramp, I sit up and grab the kufins and pull up to slow the sled. As I pass the FINISH sign, I breathe a sigh of relief, and think "Well, a that wasn't too bad..." I get to finish house, a warm two room cabin, and talk with Fred via a two way radio. He tells me besides having my head raised too high, that I also had rolled my head too quickly exiting Turn 12, which forced me early into the next turn. I use his observations and will try to overcome and/or correct these habits over the next several runs. The run lasted 47 and half seconds, about where I left off last year prior to the Master's week of sliding.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Day 4: The Final Round
My final round of the Master's started with my alarm clock not going off at quarter of six in the morning, as I forgot to set the alarm to Weekends instead of Weekdays--- Thank goodness for the Annoying Pool Players... just like clock work started yupping it up at five o'clock. I rolled over and looked at the clock and it was five fifty-eight. Talk about jump starting the day...
I packed up my garb, and threw it in the car and headed over the track. Even after my late start, I opened the sled house. I picked up my sled and placed it on the ice and snow to cool the steels so that I would not be disqualified. While my MP3 player repeated Steely Dan's "Bodhisattva", I sat on the sled, gently rocking back and forth, watching the other competitors arrive and go through their pre-race rituals. I get up to gather my backpack full of my stuff out of the sled shed and see Amy and Hannah Miller. I first met Amy and Hannah while volunteering at a USLA Slider Search in Utica two years ago. I told Hannah that I slid a personal best of 47.4 yesterday. I asked her what her best was, "45.7" was her reply. WOW. I grabbed my sled, and boarded the second truck up to the start house with four other competitors.
At the start house, the pre-race jitters set in. Shoes, no shoes, shoes, no shoes.... No shoes, it'll lighten up my feet so they would be less likely to hit the ice, as Tony noted last evening. Oh, BTW, have I told you I hate high blood pressure medicine -- it makes you have to go in the most inopportune times.... {ok, ok TMI}
The race started on time and was executed as scheduled until Scott Hanlon, pictured in Day 2, crashed in Turn 19. He walked away from the incident without injury. The leader in the men's division (below fifty years old) was Duncan Kennedy with a time of 44.3, and ADK Club vice president Brett West in second with a sub 45 second run (his first time below 45 sec).
In the Men's Senior division, the one that I was competing in, the first three runs were uneventful. Bill Dearborn, who had a benign tumor removed from his brain in January, flipped off his sled just before Turn 19. At the beginning of the season, I thought that Bill was the guy to beat. If I could catch Bill, I held a reasonably decent chance to do really well. With that idea completely out the window, I was left on my own...
"Bruce, its time" calls the official (Amy Miller). It sounded more like a warden's command to condemned prisoner at the beginning of a death march, than "go get your sled and step onto the scale". I stood on the scale, sled in hand and weighed in at 122.3 kilos, well below the 128 kg that I had been allotted at Friday's weigh-in. Stepping off of the scale, I leaned the sled up against the pole, so that another official could measure the temperature of each of the sled's steels with a contraption that looks alot like a single medical probe used during an execution. Great, just friggen great... "Sled in the track. Sled in the track." Now, it's my turn....
"Track is clear to Start 4 for Bruce" is announced to everyone this side of the mountain.
I've got thirty seconds to enter the track. Breathe, breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Rock forward - Inhale. Compress backwards - exhale completely ---- I explode forward, pulling with all of my arm, back and leg strength that I could possibly muster. Paddle as hard as possible, digging those "medieval torture implements of death" spikes into the ice, and pulling myself faster and faster. Get prone onto the sled, keep to the right make a sweeping turn to the left. Reposition myself after the turn, and grab a hold of the handles inside my pod with my thumbs and little fingers. I can't wrap my other three fingers around the handle because of the implements of death on my fingertips. No death grip there... keep constant pressure of the left kufin all the way through Shady 10, and wait for the drop to the beginning of the Labyrinth - left, right, left. I find myself (quite remarkable actually) in the middle of the track, staring at the entry into Bendham's Bend (Turn 14). "Don't do anything in 14, just stay neutral", the coaches' advice fickers through... At this point I exit Turn 14 in the Chicane doing 91.04 kph or about 57 mph. I lay back just like my last practice run yesterday. Holy Moly --- the same result - no wall brushes, hey was that Turn 16 that I just felt under my left steel. I lift my head ever so slightly to sneak a peak where I am entering Turn 17, right of center -- most excellent. The expansion joint past, 1. 2. press on the right kufin, drive the sled out of the turn. CRAP. I hit the wall with my left tricep. I'm a little early into Turn 18... Got that.. Hang a hard left, I drive the sled through 19 with constant pressure on the right kufin until I see the exit. Let go, stretch my legs as far forward as I possibly can, every inch is a hundredth of a second. Finshed.... Breathe, right turn. As I slide past the bobsled's finish sign, I find myself listening to applause from the crowd. I musta done ok. I have to grab the kufins and pull up to slow down so I don't go to far up the ramp. Never had to that before... I climb out of the track.... I am NOT dead. Definitely not dead, quite alive.
I have to stick my hand into the bucket to grab a golf wiffle ball, if the ball you pull is white - you are ok, if it colored -oh man -- I don't want that to happen again - you are the designated control. Your sled gets measured six ways from Sunday, you get weighted with the sled, have to strip down and get weighted again to see if you are the same wieght as when you weighted in - on Friday!!! That's a lifetime ago..
"Colored Ball", I said aloud as I pulled a white ball from the bucket.
As I regain concensciense from the focused stupor that I find myself in, I hear Jim Murphy tell me "46.4". What? That can't possibly be. I shake my head. "46.4", Jim repeats to me. Utter disbelief. Complete and utter disbelief. After the last slider of the group arrives at the finish area, we pile into the truck to head back up the hill to the start house.
I'm in fourth -- Holy Shitake Mushrooms.. Frigg'n A.
In a luge race, on the second run, they change the order of the slider - the slowest slider from run one goes first and the fastest slider goes last. I am sliding fourth from last. I am six tenths behind Jay Edmunds, and nine tenths behind Bob Young and Paul Suplinskas the leader of the Senior Men's division. The wait is absolutely excuriating, the three women still have to slid, the two fore runners, the open men division, then us. I am becoming more and more antcy as the time passes. I tell myself that your in the best position, not on the medals, just outside. You have to lay it out there, to put pressure on the top three and hope that they crack under the pressure.
A half hour doesn't seem like an eternity to most, but it is when the anxiety level is this intense. I wonder what my blood pressure was.. felt like eight billon over two. I am a complete and absolute mess mentally.
"Bruce", the call comes again. Repeat the process, on the scale, measure the steels. I step onto the start ramp, lay my sled in the track on the diagonal and sit down on the sled. Tony Shimkonis is performing a task that is common in the sport, he is wiping any debris from the booties of all the sliders. As I mentioned before Tony had a collision with a wall at the base of Turn 19 on Thursday, and he decided this morning, not to slide. "There's always next year." he said earlier at the sled house. I feel bad as Tony is really great guy.
"Track is clear to start four for Bruce", Kim announces over the PA system.
OMG. OMG. I feel everything - heart beating - blood flowing in every vein and artery - lungs expanding and contracting. OMG OMG
Calm down... Breathe. Breathe.
I rock forward and fill my lungs to capacity. I pull back exhaling until my lungs are seemingly empty, compressing my body. Controlled rock forward inhaling, back exhaling, Pull for the moon!!! Dig. Dig. Dig, Get to the right, sweep left. Then, remarkably... I've seen this movie before... Shady 2, Labyrinth, Bendham's Bend, Chicane, The Heart, Turn 19, stretch the body through the finish, slide to a stop to hooting, hollering and a ton of applause. I hand my sled to Jim, and he says "46.1".
Utter disbelief.
I've have done everything that I could, two personal best times back to back. I am currently in first. This lasts all of about 55 seconds, as Jay Edmonds slides slower than I do, but his six tenths provides a sufficient buffer. I am now in second place. I still can not believe this -- surreal -- absolutely surreal. It might all slip away. Even if it does, I have laid it all out on the track. I've made my peace.
Bob Young is now on the track sliding cleanly all the way in to Turn 19, when all of the sudden the track Kim announces to the crowd, "He's having problems in nineteen". "Bob finishes with a time of 47.576, with a total time of 1.33.174. Bob is in third place."
The reality of the situation now sits in, I am going to medal. In my first Master's I am going to medal!!! Paul is on the track and lays down another sub 46 second run. The medal is bronze.
Breathe, Breathe.
I see the "Luge Fantasy Camp" sliders that I watched yesterday morning and talk with them. Nice folks... The gent from NYC asked me if I even remember the runs. He asks me if it seemed like a movie. I can't reply to his question. This recount is the only recollection of that exists in written form from my own experience today and will remain embedded in the permanent memory somehow stored in my brain.
I grab my stuff and head back to the sled shed. I clean up the sled, spraying WD-40 on the steels and wipe them down with a rag so to ward off the rust. I store the sled for the last time this year. I change from my sliding outfit into my regular street clothes. and head down to the lodge at the base of complex for the award cermonies. While waiting for the presentation, I spoke with Duncan Kennedy, and he told me that what I did today was "amazing". I say "Thanks". Clearly, I must not really be here... a three time Olympic luger is telling me that my performance was "amazing", I am somewhere in the stratosphere - truely surreal.
I call Karen on my cell phone, and wake her up, and tell her "A bronze. I got a bronze." This stinks. I want to share all of this with her. I know she hears the excitement in my voice, and I am absolutely 100% sure is happy for me.
The award ceremony begins. First, the men's senior open division, Matt Gannon get the bronze, Brett West takes the silver, and Duncan Kennedy gets his sixth gold medal in this division - even with his back problems. My name is announced, I accept my medal, pose for pictures with Jay and Paul. The women, Jen, Kirsten and Erin recieve their medals as well.
On a day, on which the temperature was nearly the same when I first jumped on a luge training sled a little over two years ago, I feel like the same kid sliding down the rolling hills in southern Wisconsin on a "Snow Day" thinking about how cool would it be to slid in the Olympic on a luge... I think I just did...
Surreal. Absolutely Frigg'n Surreal.
Oh yeah, with a vintage 1976 conehead helmet from West Germany {ROF LMAO} Not.
As for the other Master's event that happened today -- I don't really care who won any more. I just have to endure another nine months and head out to Park City. I coming for you Jay! I am not sure that I can wait that long.
I packed up my garb, and threw it in the car and headed over the track. Even after my late start, I opened the sled house. I picked up my sled and placed it on the ice and snow to cool the steels so that I would not be disqualified. While my MP3 player repeated Steely Dan's "Bodhisattva", I sat on the sled, gently rocking back and forth, watching the other competitors arrive and go through their pre-race rituals. I get up to gather my backpack full of my stuff out of the sled shed and see Amy and Hannah Miller. I first met Amy and Hannah while volunteering at a USLA Slider Search in Utica two years ago. I told Hannah that I slid a personal best of 47.4 yesterday. I asked her what her best was, "45.7" was her reply. WOW. I grabbed my sled, and boarded the second truck up to the start house with four other competitors.
At the start house, the pre-race jitters set in. Shoes, no shoes, shoes, no shoes.... No shoes, it'll lighten up my feet so they would be less likely to hit the ice, as Tony noted last evening. Oh, BTW, have I told you I hate high blood pressure medicine -- it makes you have to go in the most inopportune times.... {ok, ok TMI}
The race started on time and was executed as scheduled until Scott Hanlon, pictured in Day 2, crashed in Turn 19. He walked away from the incident without injury. The leader in the men's division (below fifty years old) was Duncan Kennedy with a time of 44.3, and ADK Club vice president Brett West in second with a sub 45 second run (his first time below 45 sec).
In the Men's Senior division, the one that I was competing in, the first three runs were uneventful. Bill Dearborn, who had a benign tumor removed from his brain in January, flipped off his sled just before Turn 19. At the beginning of the season, I thought that Bill was the guy to beat. If I could catch Bill, I held a reasonably decent chance to do really well. With that idea completely out the window, I was left on my own...
"Bruce, its time" calls the official (Amy Miller). It sounded more like a warden's command to condemned prisoner at the beginning of a death march, than "go get your sled and step onto the scale". I stood on the scale, sled in hand and weighed in at 122.3 kilos, well below the 128 kg that I had been allotted at Friday's weigh-in. Stepping off of the scale, I leaned the sled up against the pole, so that another official could measure the temperature of each of the sled's steels with a contraption that looks alot like a single medical probe used during an execution. Great, just friggen great... "Sled in the track. Sled in the track." Now, it's my turn....
"Track is clear to Start 4 for Bruce" is announced to everyone this side of the mountain.
I've got thirty seconds to enter the track. Breathe, breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Rock forward - Inhale. Compress backwards - exhale completely ---- I explode forward, pulling with all of my arm, back and leg strength that I could possibly muster. Paddle as hard as possible, digging those "medieval torture implements of death" spikes into the ice, and pulling myself faster and faster. Get prone onto the sled, keep to the right make a sweeping turn to the left. Reposition myself after the turn, and grab a hold of the handles inside my pod with my thumbs and little fingers. I can't wrap my other three fingers around the handle because of the implements of death on my fingertips. No death grip there... keep constant pressure of the left kufin all the way through Shady 10, and wait for the drop to the beginning of the Labyrinth - left, right, left. I find myself (quite remarkable actually) in the middle of the track, staring at the entry into Bendham's Bend (Turn 14). "Don't do anything in 14, just stay neutral", the coaches' advice fickers through... At this point I exit Turn 14 in the Chicane doing 91.04 kph or about 57 mph. I lay back just like my last practice run yesterday. Holy Moly --- the same result - no wall brushes, hey was that Turn 16 that I just felt under my left steel. I lift my head ever so slightly to sneak a peak where I am entering Turn 17, right of center -- most excellent. The expansion joint past, 1. 2. press on the right kufin, drive the sled out of the turn. CRAP. I hit the wall with my left tricep. I'm a little early into Turn 18... Got that.. Hang a hard left, I drive the sled through 19 with constant pressure on the right kufin until I see the exit. Let go, stretch my legs as far forward as I possibly can, every inch is a hundredth of a second. Finshed.... Breathe, right turn. As I slide past the bobsled's finish sign, I find myself listening to applause from the crowd. I musta done ok. I have to grab the kufins and pull up to slow down so I don't go to far up the ramp. Never had to that before... I climb out of the track.... I am NOT dead. Definitely not dead, quite alive.
I have to stick my hand into the bucket to grab a golf wiffle ball, if the ball you pull is white - you are ok, if it colored -oh man -- I don't want that to happen again - you are the designated control. Your sled gets measured six ways from Sunday, you get weighted with the sled, have to strip down and get weighted again to see if you are the same wieght as when you weighted in - on Friday!!! That's a lifetime ago..
"Colored Ball", I said aloud as I pulled a white ball from the bucket.
As I regain concensciense from the focused stupor that I find myself in, I hear Jim Murphy tell me "46.4". What? That can't possibly be. I shake my head. "46.4", Jim repeats to me. Utter disbelief. Complete and utter disbelief. After the last slider of the group arrives at the finish area, we pile into the truck to head back up the hill to the start house.
I'm in fourth -- Holy Shitake Mushrooms.. Frigg'n A.
In a luge race, on the second run, they change the order of the slider - the slowest slider from run one goes first and the fastest slider goes last. I am sliding fourth from last. I am six tenths behind Jay Edmunds, and nine tenths behind Bob Young and Paul Suplinskas the leader of the Senior Men's division. The wait is absolutely excuriating, the three women still have to slid, the two fore runners, the open men division, then us. I am becoming more and more antcy as the time passes. I tell myself that your in the best position, not on the medals, just outside. You have to lay it out there, to put pressure on the top three and hope that they crack under the pressure.
A half hour doesn't seem like an eternity to most, but it is when the anxiety level is this intense. I wonder what my blood pressure was.. felt like eight billon over two. I am a complete and absolute mess mentally.
"Bruce", the call comes again. Repeat the process, on the scale, measure the steels. I step onto the start ramp, lay my sled in the track on the diagonal and sit down on the sled. Tony Shimkonis is performing a task that is common in the sport, he is wiping any debris from the booties of all the sliders. As I mentioned before Tony had a collision with a wall at the base of Turn 19 on Thursday, and he decided this morning, not to slide. "There's always next year." he said earlier at the sled house. I feel bad as Tony is really great guy.
"Track is clear to start four for Bruce", Kim announces over the PA system.
OMG. OMG. I feel everything - heart beating - blood flowing in every vein and artery - lungs expanding and contracting. OMG OMG
Calm down... Breathe. Breathe.
I rock forward and fill my lungs to capacity. I pull back exhaling until my lungs are seemingly empty, compressing my body. Controlled rock forward inhaling, back exhaling, Pull for the moon!!! Dig. Dig. Dig, Get to the right, sweep left. Then, remarkably... I've seen this movie before... Shady 2, Labyrinth, Bendham's Bend, Chicane, The Heart, Turn 19, stretch the body through the finish, slide to a stop to hooting, hollering and a ton of applause. I hand my sled to Jim, and he says "46.1".
Utter disbelief.
I've have done everything that I could, two personal best times back to back. I am currently in first. This lasts all of about 55 seconds, as Jay Edmonds slides slower than I do, but his six tenths provides a sufficient buffer. I am now in second place. I still can not believe this -- surreal -- absolutely surreal. It might all slip away. Even if it does, I have laid it all out on the track. I've made my peace.
Bob Young is now on the track sliding cleanly all the way in to Turn 19, when all of the sudden the track Kim announces to the crowd, "He's having problems in nineteen". "Bob finishes with a time of 47.576, with a total time of 1.33.174. Bob is in third place."
The reality of the situation now sits in, I am going to medal. In my first Master's I am going to medal!!! Paul is on the track and lays down another sub 46 second run. The medal is bronze.
Breathe, Breathe.
I see the "Luge Fantasy Camp" sliders that I watched yesterday morning and talk with them. Nice folks... The gent from NYC asked me if I even remember the runs. He asks me if it seemed like a movie. I can't reply to his question. This recount is the only recollection of that exists in written form from my own experience today and will remain embedded in the permanent memory somehow stored in my brain.
I grab my stuff and head back to the sled shed. I clean up the sled, spraying WD-40 on the steels and wipe them down with a rag so to ward off the rust. I store the sled for the last time this year. I change from my sliding outfit into my regular street clothes. and head down to the lodge at the base of complex for the award cermonies. While waiting for the presentation, I spoke with Duncan Kennedy, and he told me that what I did today was "amazing". I say "Thanks". Clearly, I must not really be here... a three time Olympic luger is telling me that my performance was "amazing", I am somewhere in the stratosphere - truely surreal.
I call Karen on my cell phone, and wake her up, and tell her "A bronze. I got a bronze." This stinks. I want to share all of this with her. I know she hears the excitement in my voice, and I am absolutely 100% sure is happy for me.
The award ceremony begins. First, the men's senior open division, Matt Gannon get the bronze, Brett West takes the silver, and Duncan Kennedy gets his sixth gold medal in this division - even with his back problems. My name is announced, I accept my medal, pose for pictures with Jay and Paul. The women, Jen, Kirsten and Erin recieve their medals as well.
On a day, on which the temperature was nearly the same when I first jumped on a luge training sled a little over two years ago, I feel like the same kid sliding down the rolling hills in southern Wisconsin on a "Snow Day" thinking about how cool would it be to slid in the Olympic on a luge... I think I just did...
Surreal. Absolutely Frigg'n Surreal.
Oh yeah, with a vintage 1976 conehead helmet from West Germany {ROF LMAO} Not.
As for the other Master's event that happened today -- I don't really care who won any more. I just have to endure another nine months and head out to Park City. I coming for you Jay! I am not sure that I can wait that long.
Day 3: Moving Day - Part Duex
It is well after the practice session and the banquet dinner, so let me get you caught up.
I arrived late to the training session due to my inability to properly calculate one hour before five o'clock. It was in the mid to upper forties when I arrived at four thirty. During the afternoon, I had made a decision to only slide until I felt prepared for tomorrow's race. On my first run, I slid reasonably well, and in the Chicane - the long straight away with two very minor turns, I touched the left hand wall which forced me early into the Turn 17 - typically a bad situation. I amazed myself, as I was able to adjust the path of the sled, and exited a little earlier than normal. I hit the left hand wall prior to Turn 18, and steered the sled into Turn 19. After the run, the US Luge Association National Team Assistant Coach Bill Tavares told me, "when you come out of Turn 14 (prior to the Chicane), you are going to get what you get. Make sure that you keep your shoulders in contact with the sled."
In order to do what he instructed me to do, it meant that I would lose all long range visual clues and have to place my head in position where I would be looking up rather than out. For the last two years, I have been looking out (just like driving a car) and not up -- clearly not your typical aerodynamic luging position. I thought to myself, he is part of the coaching staff for the Olympic athletes, he knows what he talking about.
In run 2, all went as planned, and as I exited Turn 14 (Bendham's Bend) and entered the Chicane, I laid my head back as instructed, and spotted the over head light fixtures (as they are centered over the track). Sure enough, I did not touch a wall and entered Turn 17 just right of center, and finished the track in a new personal best time of 47.443. I had already a decision that I wanted to end on a good clean run, and this run was more than acceptable.
After the practice, fellow slider Tony Shimkonis, who may have suffered a partially, separated shoulder in a particularly nasty crash on Thursday, told me that I flew down the chicane as if I drew a beeline to Turn 17, but when I came of Turn 14, that my feet were hitting the ice. More information that I needed to know, but had no idea that I was doing. It was this information, which indicated to me that it may be time to lose the indoor soccer shoes that I have been wearing. Wonder if....
The banquet dinner was simply AWESOME. Most of the sliders and all of the USLA officials attended the event. After dinner, the "business" portion of the get together occured. The discussion regarding the location of next year's Master's race was held, and it was suggested that it be held in Park City, Utah.
Jay Edmunds from the Wasatch Luge Club (Park City), challenged Jim Murphy from the Adirondack Luge Club to a friendly competition to the determine the winner of the Challenger cup. He introduced his team of Bill Dearborn, Paul Suplinskas and Matt Gannon! He explained that Bill and Paul had bi-club membership. He stated that he was opting not to press charges against Matt (a long time ADK Club member, and actually works at the track keeping the refrigeration system working) as he had "sled-jacked" Jay's sled earlier in the week during a practice session. Such herasy. Jim accepted Jay's challenge.
I retired relatively early, as I was awakened this morning at five o'clock to shouts of "Let's party!!!...." Annoying kids. I went to the front desk to ensure that everything was ready for an early exit in the morning - and all was in order. I mentioned the Annoying kids to the manager, and he indicated that it was the Pool Tourament players that finished up playing at about five in the morning. Annoying pool players!!! {LOL}.
Tune in tomorrow for the Final Round.
I arrived late to the training session due to my inability to properly calculate one hour before five o'clock. It was in the mid to upper forties when I arrived at four thirty. During the afternoon, I had made a decision to only slide until I felt prepared for tomorrow's race. On my first run, I slid reasonably well, and in the Chicane - the long straight away with two very minor turns, I touched the left hand wall which forced me early into the Turn 17 - typically a bad situation. I amazed myself, as I was able to adjust the path of the sled, and exited a little earlier than normal. I hit the left hand wall prior to Turn 18, and steered the sled into Turn 19. After the run, the US Luge Association National Team Assistant Coach Bill Tavares told me, "when you come out of Turn 14 (prior to the Chicane), you are going to get what you get. Make sure that you keep your shoulders in contact with the sled."
In order to do what he instructed me to do, it meant that I would lose all long range visual clues and have to place my head in position where I would be looking up rather than out. For the last two years, I have been looking out (just like driving a car) and not up -- clearly not your typical aerodynamic luging position. I thought to myself, he is part of the coaching staff for the Olympic athletes, he knows what he talking about.
In run 2, all went as planned, and as I exited Turn 14 (Bendham's Bend) and entered the Chicane, I laid my head back as instructed, and spotted the over head light fixtures (as they are centered over the track). Sure enough, I did not touch a wall and entered Turn 17 just right of center, and finished the track in a new personal best time of 47.443. I had already a decision that I wanted to end on a good clean run, and this run was more than acceptable.
After the practice, fellow slider Tony Shimkonis, who may have suffered a partially, separated shoulder in a particularly nasty crash on Thursday, told me that I flew down the chicane as if I drew a beeline to Turn 17, but when I came of Turn 14, that my feet were hitting the ice. More information that I needed to know, but had no idea that I was doing. It was this information, which indicated to me that it may be time to lose the indoor soccer shoes that I have been wearing. Wonder if....
The banquet dinner was simply AWESOME. Most of the sliders and all of the USLA officials attended the event. After dinner, the "business" portion of the get together occured. The discussion regarding the location of next year's Master's race was held, and it was suggested that it be held in Park City, Utah.
Jay Edmunds from the Wasatch Luge Club (Park City), challenged Jim Murphy from the Adirondack Luge Club to a friendly competition to the determine the winner of the Challenger cup. He introduced his team of Bill Dearborn, Paul Suplinskas and Matt Gannon! He explained that Bill and Paul had bi-club membership. He stated that he was opting not to press charges against Matt (a long time ADK Club member, and actually works at the track keeping the refrigeration system working) as he had "sled-jacked" Jay's sled earlier in the week during a practice session. Such herasy. Jim accepted Jay's challenge.
I retired relatively early, as I was awakened this morning at five o'clock to shouts of "Let's party!!!...." Annoying kids. I went to the front desk to ensure that everything was ready for an early exit in the morning - and all was in order. I mentioned the Annoying kids to the manager, and he indicated that it was the Pool Tourament players that finished up playing at about five in the morning. Annoying pool players!!! {LOL}.
Tune in tomorrow for the Final Round.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Day 3: "Moving Day" - Part 1
Part 1
At the Masters in Augusta, today is "Moving Day", the day when the pro golfers try to best position themselves for the final round tomorrow.
It is the same here at the Masters, only not nearly as long an ordeal.... During this evening's last training session (5 to 7 pm), I expect that there may be sliders making minor tweaks to their sleds and sliding techniques in anticipation of tomorrow's race. I will be amongst those making adjustments to my sliding paths.
Earlier this morning, I headed out the track, to observe the "Fantasy Luge Camp" participants while they slid from the lowest entry on the track. I watched the four on most their runs, from various points of view on the track. I did this because I wanted to see the lines that the sled naturally tries to take (as they are instructed to steer minimally), as that is the optimum path for maintaining speed. Besides watching, I ended up talking with three of the four sliders at the end of their sliding session. They reminded me of the unabashed, unbridled passion of sliding for the first time. They came in from NYC, Pensacola and Tampa, Florida just to slide. Talk about the passion. BTW, you couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces. Been there; Done that; Got the "Badge of Honor" on my forearm to prove it. It was absolutely contagious!!
I'll be tapping into their passion, and trying to harness it into my runs later this evening.
I'm all smiles!!! Thanks Toots!!!
Later tonight Part 2 - After the training session and Master's Dinner.
At the Masters in Augusta, today is "Moving Day", the day when the pro golfers try to best position themselves for the final round tomorrow.
It is the same here at the Masters, only not nearly as long an ordeal.... During this evening's last training session (5 to 7 pm), I expect that there may be sliders making minor tweaks to their sleds and sliding techniques in anticipation of tomorrow's race. I will be amongst those making adjustments to my sliding paths.
Earlier this morning, I headed out the track, to observe the "Fantasy Luge Camp" participants while they slid from the lowest entry on the track. I watched the four on most their runs, from various points of view on the track. I did this because I wanted to see the lines that the sled naturally tries to take (as they are instructed to steer minimally), as that is the optimum path for maintaining speed. Besides watching, I ended up talking with three of the four sliders at the end of their sliding session. They reminded me of the unabashed, unbridled passion of sliding for the first time. They came in from NYC, Pensacola and Tampa, Florida just to slide. Talk about the passion. BTW, you couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces. Been there; Done that; Got the "Badge of Honor" on my forearm to prove it. It was absolutely contagious!!
I'll be tapping into their passion, and trying to harness it into my runs later this evening.
I'm all smiles!!! Thanks Toots!!!
Later tonight Part 2 - After the training session and Master's Dinner.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Day 2 - Triple Bogeys and Eagles
So the today's title indicates the type of day it was for professional golfer Graeme McDonald at the Masters in Augusta. It was amazing how everything was going along swimmingly in his round, until he triple bogied Hole 12, a par 3, the middle hole of Amen Corner. On the next hole, a par 5, he eagles. What a swing in (mis)fortunes...
My adventure continued this morning under bright blue skies with temperatures in mid thirties. Oh, to be sliding in this heat. Twenty two sliders took training runs today on the refrigerated track. The ice was "Momma Bear" -- just right. I started in the middle of the pack. Out the handles without incident and made the gentle left hand turn at the end of start ramp, gained speed in Shady 2, exited the turn completely lined up for Turn 11. Turns 12, 13 and Bendham's bend (Turn 14) were quite unremarkable. The long straight away with a pair of small incidental turns, and into the Turn 17 right of center. Remember how Graeme's day was going????
The sled started the up and down weaving action, which is abnormal, and is not exactly the shortest distance between two points (Yes Dad, I was paying attention in all of my Math classes).
I was late out the turn, forcing a late entry into Turn 18. At the time I am thinking (really actually thinking during this) "I've been here before, it didn't finish well last time... just relax". I exited 18 with my left steel (runner) on the vertical wall with about a half of second before the start of the hard left turn (Turn 19). Sufficed to say - I did not finish my first training run as I flipped in Turn 19, slid to a complete stop with my sled on top of me. As I was laying in the trough of the curve, the emergency medical tech personnel yelled up "Are you OK?" I replied "I'm OK... <bleep> <bleep> it. Son of <bleep>" I was really discouraged and upset with myself. I walked back down the track to the lowest part of the track, hopped up into the medical van, which drove me to the finish house. How friggen embarrassing!!! My triple bogey of the day.
So I received sage advice from Jim Murphy as I recounted my issue. As is normal in the sport of luge, the cause of an 81 (a crash) can always be traced back to two or three turns prior to the point of the incident. We determined that my issue was that I was driving the sled in Turn 17 too long, starting the porpoising action. Jim also instructed to have a Plan B. Here, I thought that only lawyers had a Plan B. I hopped onto back of the truck to be taken back to the Junior Start House, to prepare for my next training run.
My second run started out normal, left in Turn 9, the big sweeping right turn in Shady 2, the quick left, right, left of the labyrinth, the big right hand turn in Bendham's, straight down the middle of the chicane and the left into Turn 17. I eased off the steering in the beginning of turn and the sled remained at a constant height in the banked curve. I can out in the middle of track, lined up for the quick right hand turn of Turn 18. Turn 19, the finishing left hand turn found me driving through (as if all was right with the world) and I tripped the finishing beam just before Turn 20. In the two years, that I have been trying to master the art of sliding, I have always finished where I need to walk to the finish area, with my sled on my arm. This was not the case on Run 2, I slid all the way up to the finish house (a true milestone). While I touched a wall between Turns 19 and 20, I set a personal best sliding time of 47.607 sec. What an eagle!!!
So back to Augusta, Tiger comes back showing just how good/great he could be... back in the hunt.
IMHO, Duncan is luge's version of Tiger. He slid well after me, on that international orange duct taped pod that he has worked on... He slid the same course in 44.4 seconds -- a full eight tenths of a second faster than any other slider today. He is just way too fast... WOW, just WOW!!!
The afternoon, all the sliders had to weighted-in at the Olympic Luge Center. I tipped the scales at 101.9 kilos (about 224 lbs).
I went to dinner with the majority of the sliders at Lisa G's, a local pub and eatery. Jim brought his computer to review the pictures taken by his wife, Laura, during the training session. Of course, multiple pictures drew comments. The picture attached below is of Scott Hanlon, a three time "Luge Fantasy Camp" attendee, when he was in Bendham' Bend on his third run of the day.
When this picture was shown to Duncan Kennedy, he simply stated, "Who is that? How is he still alive?"
Note: His head is supposed to be turned towards the camera, unless Gordy has been teaching him the secret German luge recipe!!! {LOL}
Until tomorrow.
My adventure continued this morning under bright blue skies with temperatures in mid thirties. Oh, to be sliding in this heat. Twenty two sliders took training runs today on the refrigerated track. The ice was "Momma Bear" -- just right. I started in the middle of the pack. Out the handles without incident and made the gentle left hand turn at the end of start ramp, gained speed in Shady 2, exited the turn completely lined up for Turn 11. Turns 12, 13 and Bendham's bend (Turn 14) were quite unremarkable. The long straight away with a pair of small incidental turns, and into the Turn 17 right of center. Remember how Graeme's day was going????
The sled started the up and down weaving action, which is abnormal, and is not exactly the shortest distance between two points (Yes Dad, I was paying attention in all of my Math classes).
I was late out the turn, forcing a late entry into Turn 18. At the time I am thinking (really actually thinking during this) "I've been here before, it didn't finish well last time... just relax". I exited 18 with my left steel (runner) on the vertical wall with about a half of second before the start of the hard left turn (Turn 19). Sufficed to say - I did not finish my first training run as I flipped in Turn 19, slid to a complete stop with my sled on top of me. As I was laying in the trough of the curve, the emergency medical tech personnel yelled up "Are you OK?" I replied "I'm OK... <bleep> <bleep> it. Son of <bleep>" I was really discouraged and upset with myself. I walked back down the track to the lowest part of the track, hopped up into the medical van, which drove me to the finish house. How friggen embarrassing!!! My triple bogey of the day.
So I received sage advice from Jim Murphy as I recounted my issue. As is normal in the sport of luge, the cause of an 81 (a crash) can always be traced back to two or three turns prior to the point of the incident. We determined that my issue was that I was driving the sled in Turn 17 too long, starting the porpoising action. Jim also instructed to have a Plan B. Here, I thought that only lawyers had a Plan B. I hopped onto back of the truck to be taken back to the Junior Start House, to prepare for my next training run.
My second run started out normal, left in Turn 9, the big sweeping right turn in Shady 2, the quick left, right, left of the labyrinth, the big right hand turn in Bendham's, straight down the middle of the chicane and the left into Turn 17. I eased off the steering in the beginning of turn and the sled remained at a constant height in the banked curve. I can out in the middle of track, lined up for the quick right hand turn of Turn 18. Turn 19, the finishing left hand turn found me driving through (as if all was right with the world) and I tripped the finishing beam just before Turn 20. In the two years, that I have been trying to master the art of sliding, I have always finished where I need to walk to the finish area, with my sled on my arm. This was not the case on Run 2, I slid all the way up to the finish house (a true milestone). While I touched a wall between Turns 19 and 20, I set a personal best sliding time of 47.607 sec. What an eagle!!!
So back to Augusta, Tiger comes back showing just how good/great he could be... back in the hunt.
IMHO, Duncan is luge's version of Tiger. He slid well after me, on that international orange duct taped pod that he has worked on... He slid the same course in 44.4 seconds -- a full eight tenths of a second faster than any other slider today. He is just way too fast... WOW, just WOW!!!
The afternoon, all the sliders had to weighted-in at the Olympic Luge Center. I tipped the scales at 101.9 kilos (about 224 lbs).
I went to dinner with the majority of the sliders at Lisa G's, a local pub and eatery. Jim brought his computer to review the pictures taken by his wife, Laura, during the training session. Of course, multiple pictures drew comments. The picture attached below is of Scott Hanlon, a three time "Luge Fantasy Camp" attendee, when he was in Bendham' Bend on his third run of the day.
When this picture was shown to Duncan Kennedy, he simply stated, "Who is that? How is he still alive?"
Note: His head is supposed to be turned towards the camera, unless Gordy has been teaching him the secret German luge recipe!!! {LOL}
Until tomorrow.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Day 1
After 2 years of planning, I finally made it to the Masters.
Oh no, not that televised, commercialized event in Georgia being played by a number of highly over compensated professional stroke masters. Just thirty adults, men and women gathering from all over the US, all amateurs competing in the ultimate version of a kid's "Snow Day" fantasy.
The Masters Luge Championship, where competitors slide on sleds feet first, (any other way [e.g. head first] is WAY too dangerous, even for this overzealous, over aged kid from Wisconsin) on ice in excess of sixty miles an hour, where one mistake can cost you tenths, hundredths or thousandths of a second, and hopefully only that. Kiss a wall, lose time, and suffer the pain. Typically, all but the shouting is all over in less than 46 seconds if done properly - not that I'll see those kind of times any time soon, but "Hey, You never know!".
Driving up this morning, I did not see one blooming dogwood nor azealea, nor any Amen Corner, just 3 inches of new fallen snow overnight, melting under the crisp blue cloudless sky. Arrived at Mt Van Hoevenberg, finding the course in spectacular condition, more slippery than the greens at Augusta. Shady 2, The Labryinth, Bendham's Curve, The Chicane, The Heart and the ever troublesome Turn 19 were waiting patiently for the "kids to come out and play".
The numbers of sliders has grown steadily during the practice sessions this week, starting with five hearty souls on Tuesday and six more on Wednesday. Today, a total of seventeen practiced under practically perfect weather, even by Adirondack standards. Tomorrow, I expect the full complement of thrity sliders, all scheduled to compete early on Sunday morning. Ex-Olympians, amateur sliders alike -- all humble, happy just to be out "playing" in a sport which most Americans only see once every four years. I lobbied hard to have this weekend's race streamed on the web, but it was not to be. Maybe next year.
After three runs during today's practice, the majority of the sliders, and family members gathered and ate at the Adirondack Diner in Lake Placid. The food and service was great, and the company and conversation was even better. Topics of conversations included comparisons between individual slider's "Badges of Honor" to the technical details of why laser radar used by the police is not nearly as accurate as I've been led to believe.
After lunch had settled, several of us headed over the Olympic Luge Center, to work on our starts... I truely need all the help that I can get... The pull from the handles, and three really good paddles, down the iced track and back up the end hill to the BIG blue shock absorbing pad, all done in less than three seconds. On the upside, my start times were five thousandths of second behind last year's silver medalist in the "Over 50" category.
I spent some quality time with Duncan Kennedy, former Olympian and currently USA Luge National Team Assistant Coach going over the the finer points of sled construction. He told me that the sled which he is planning on sliding with this year, he gathered all the components from items headed to dump. He reworked all the components, and in true Duncan fashion, covered the entire pod in international orange duct tape. My dad proved to me that duct tape could hold a kayak together for several miles of whitewater, but Duncan clearly has other plans... I think I hear Tim Gunn saying "Carry On".
Tune in tomorrow for "Day 2"
Oh no, not that televised, commercialized event in Georgia being played by a number of highly over compensated professional stroke masters. Just thirty adults, men and women gathering from all over the US, all amateurs competing in the ultimate version of a kid's "Snow Day" fantasy.
The Masters Luge Championship, where competitors slide on sleds feet first, (any other way [e.g. head first] is WAY too dangerous, even for this overzealous, over aged kid from Wisconsin) on ice in excess of sixty miles an hour, where one mistake can cost you tenths, hundredths or thousandths of a second, and hopefully only that. Kiss a wall, lose time, and suffer the pain. Typically, all but the shouting is all over in less than 46 seconds if done properly - not that I'll see those kind of times any time soon, but "Hey, You never know!".
Driving up this morning, I did not see one blooming dogwood nor azealea, nor any Amen Corner, just 3 inches of new fallen snow overnight, melting under the crisp blue cloudless sky. Arrived at Mt Van Hoevenberg, finding the course in spectacular condition, more slippery than the greens at Augusta. Shady 2, The Labryinth, Bendham's Curve, The Chicane, The Heart and the ever troublesome Turn 19 were waiting patiently for the "kids to come out and play".
The numbers of sliders has grown steadily during the practice sessions this week, starting with five hearty souls on Tuesday and six more on Wednesday. Today, a total of seventeen practiced under practically perfect weather, even by Adirondack standards. Tomorrow, I expect the full complement of thrity sliders, all scheduled to compete early on Sunday morning. Ex-Olympians, amateur sliders alike -- all humble, happy just to be out "playing" in a sport which most Americans only see once every four years. I lobbied hard to have this weekend's race streamed on the web, but it was not to be. Maybe next year.
After three runs during today's practice, the majority of the sliders, and family members gathered and ate at the Adirondack Diner in Lake Placid. The food and service was great, and the company and conversation was even better. Topics of conversations included comparisons between individual slider's "Badges of Honor" to the technical details of why laser radar used by the police is not nearly as accurate as I've been led to believe.
After lunch had settled, several of us headed over the Olympic Luge Center, to work on our starts... I truely need all the help that I can get... The pull from the handles, and three really good paddles, down the iced track and back up the end hill to the BIG blue shock absorbing pad, all done in less than three seconds. On the upside, my start times were five thousandths of second behind last year's silver medalist in the "Over 50" category.
I spent some quality time with Duncan Kennedy, former Olympian and currently USA Luge National Team Assistant Coach going over the the finer points of sled construction. He told me that the sled which he is planning on sliding with this year, he gathered all the components from items headed to dump. He reworked all the components, and in true Duncan fashion, covered the entire pod in international orange duct tape. My dad proved to me that duct tape could hold a kayak together for several miles of whitewater, but Duncan clearly has other plans... I think I hear Tim Gunn saying "Carry On".
Tune in tomorrow for "Day 2"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)