davenighbor.com

It has taken me a while to sit down and debrief my race season and it wasn’t until I was given the pink slip from the National Team last week that I became overly motivated to write an article. Yet, with this new found enthusiasm for article writing, I had to hold back for a bit because I knew if I wrote it right away, my words would come across strikingly similar to the incessant snarls of the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes; I know my facial expressions shared his resemblance at times during the past week. Either way, I’ve had a week to experience all sorts of different emotions and now I am balancing on somewhat of an even keel. I got help from the Google machine to help me identify all of the feelings I’ve expressed (or felt but didn’t express) following more or less this order:

Shocked, worried, fed-up, anger, panic, resentment, sadness, frustration, depression, fear, confusion, anxiety, scared and finally, acceptance and relief.

Let me explain how the whole thing went down so you’ll have a better understanding of my emotional rollercoaster: I received the phone call from Eric last Tuesday (this is about the time the doorknob broke), he asked me how I was doing and went on with about 10 minutes of small talk (was that some kind of joke?). After chatting and joking around about the weather or something his laughter trailed off as he sighed and said, “I’ve got some bad news for you”. Although that was enough information for me to end the phone call, I hung on the line to hear the end of his sentence. He went on to say, “I’m sorry, you aren’t nominated to the National Team for next year.” Shock is the feeling I felt at this time – and actually, when I am shocked I’m rather calm and pleasant. He went on to explain that not only did I not make the team but I wasn’t likely getting carded (government funding or an athlete’s salary) and I wouldn’t likely get accepted to the Quebec Training Center either. I’m still shocked with a pinch of panic and worry. Naturally, anger comes into play a bit later.

So why am I shocked? Why should I be on the National Team? Why am I getting a “thanks for coming out” call to begin with? These are all questions you might be asking yourself.

I’m 24 years old I have been on the National Team for 8 consecutive years (5 years senior, 3 year junior). I’ve won 11 Nor/Am cup races in my career and 12 National Championships races. This past season I’ve won 3 Nor/Am’s in three disciplines: 15km classic and 15km skate (both in which I blew the field wide open) and a classic double pole sprint in Silver Star BC. I qualified second Canadian in the World Cups this past January on the Whistler Olympic Park sprint course. I was the leader of the Nor/Am series mid season which took me over to Europe where I placed 29^th in the Trondheim 50km World Cup (Devon Kershaw, Alex Harvey and I all became the first Canadians in many years to place top 30 in a Norwegian World Cup).

Now, why did I not make the National Team after proving myself several times as one of Canada’s best? Cross Country Canada unanticipated the depth of our strong Canadian field and underestimated the number of young athletes that would reach the criteria for making the National Team. The Junior and Under 23 World Championship Team raced very well at their Championships qualifying 6 athletes who finished top 20 in distance or top 12 in a sprint race. All these results trumped my results when I fell 3 points short of scoring 20 World Cup points. I don’t disagree with most named to the team but I do disagree with Cross Country Canada’s short-sighted development philosophy. Instead of accommodating the newfound strength in numbers of Nordic skiers that Canada has, Cross Country Canada consistently opens up the bottom letting go of young and talented skiers and leaving them jobless with no funding and years of world class results potentially unfulfilled.

I suppose that’s where the anger steps in along with being fed-up, resentful, sad and frustrated. I’ve seen this happen to many of my teammates over the years and it almost always results in them spending many years trying to climb out of the financial hole they find themselves in or they just end up quitting. Not only are athletes taken off the carding list, but they end up having to support themselves while spending thousands of dollars on training camps and races. After my brief phone call with Eric the other day, with my head still spinning, I realized something I never have before: There is a price tag on everything –including your dreams.

$40,000 is my fluctuation in funding this Olympic year due to Cross Country Canada’s short-sightedness – but I’m not bitter. At least I’ll do everything in my power to not hold a grudge. I know from experience that bitterness and resentment is counterproductive in life and as an athlete.

So now I’m confused, anxious, and scared. I told Eric to give me Louis Bouchard’s (the Quebec Training Center coach) contact to find out if I truly wouldn’t be able to join the Quebec team. I called him and he accepted my request with open arms and without an ounce of hesitation. He also gave me the first bit of positivity from any coach-type figure since sometime early January. I was also talking on-and-off with Mike Cavaliere about joining the World Cup Academy – who was also very positive and encouraging – the Academy would have also been a great opportunity. It was a very hard decision to make. In the end I had to make a decision and went with my gut: The Quebec Training Center. It will be nice to spend some time out of my “comfort zone” and into the land of Quebecers. I think training with that young, talented group will be a great opportunity for me.

As for the funding part, I’m going to have to deal with it. I can’t be discouraged by something out of my control for more than a couple days. But luckily I have my family stepping up (as always) as my safety net. They proved that they believe in me which was plenty more that I’ve seen from the program I have been involved in.

So what have I learned? When you get the rug pulled out from under you, you quickly gather two things: Perspective and you realize that those who remain to help you back on your feet are the people that believe in you.

Now I’ve got a doorknob that needs fixing.