Junior Worlds 2012: Living with Limits

Definitely not something we worry about back home. 

Today's start was pretty brutal: I rolled out of bed at 6 AM. Still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, we were on site by 7:00, to be on the water shortly after. It was a fast-paced morning, and we had to keep things moving. Down and back. Only a couple passes for each of us, just to get one last feel for the lake, before skiing back in.

Our lakeside view from our hotel.

The two Colombian girls on the team are looking good and gaining confidence. Everything's looking upwards, the wind is on point, and the sun's giving us a few hours of brisk weather, before scorching our already sun-burnt skin. They each go out and nail it. Less than four passes each, and back in. I prepare for my last slalom set before the tournament begins. I'm a bit sore and tired from the past couple days of skiing, but I need to finish strong. This was my goal, my strategy, to peak for this week. After all, I knew my choices were limited. Skiing the past few months, through the Miami "winter" and heaps of college applications, was not exactly a breeze. Juggling skiing and school has been a skill I've been forced to embrace. 

Enjoying some early morning rays while waiting for the boat.

Standing on the dock, anticipating my last set, it's easy to get caught up in the rush of the moment. To let myself drift and worry and stress that I didn't play my cards right, that it's all a farce, and there's no way I'm ready for this tournament. And that's why my dad, my coach, is here to slap those thoughts out of my head with a shove into the lake. Less than twenty seconds later, and 400 horsepower is pulling me into the course. Turning one ball, I pick my line and let the boat do the work. I make it back out of the exit gates. A couple passes later and I pull into the dock, satisfied.

My official tournament bib—and a couple other goodies for the skiers. 

An hour later, and the Colombian team switches to the next lake for our next time slot. The two girls go out again, for their last practice sets. I finish off with a few jumps but something's not right. My setups are good, but the results aren't. Frustrations and tensions rise, but I force them down for now. Only later would I find out that this set was my first with the tournament boat, equipped with the stronger engine. Other issues arise too, however. I'm peaking too soon. My legs are starting to reach their limit, after being put through straight-through training, a day-long flight, and another training week. All I can do though, is rest, and prepare for tomorrow's official start to the tournament. It's something I have to accept as part of the sport. It works. It doesn't. It comes and goes. And there's not much I can do about it.

An advantage to our early morning, we're done skiing by 11:00AM. Some of us head back to the hotel, some stick around the site. I take the opportunity to grab some lunch and catch up on some schoolwork. Later, sitting around the table with friends, trading stories and jokes, I'm reminded of how much I love this sport. Reconnecting with friends from all over the world, conjoined by one interest, there's nothing like it. Like I've said before, it's an indescribable feeling to be constantly surrounded by people who are so talented at what they do. These tournaments bring together only the best from around the world, and being able to take part in it all keeps me humble. 

HQ, and where we'll be ending our tournament parade through the
streets of Mulwala tomorrow afternoon.

We finish off our day with a great meal. Curry rice and chicken, pretty much all around. We keep it an early one. A solid eight hours tonight is as good as gold. With that in mind, I get back to my room while my dad triple checks the ski gear. I upload some photos, chat with Sasha, write up this blog post, and am out cold as soon as I touch the pillow.

Tomorrow is Day 1 of the tournament. I hope you'll join me.

Junior Worlds 2012: The Nuts and Bolts

Nearly a year ago you may have tuned in to my live updates from the 30th LatinAmericans in Peru. Amidst the fast-moving days, I was able to kick out a couple behind-the-scenes photos, a couple blog posts, and some details from the tournament, all while having loads of fun. Apparently, the updates caught some attention, because a couple months ago, I had some requests for another live update from the land down under, where I'd be in a few months (NOW). I promised I'd try, so here it is. I won't be able to throw up something every day. Let's call it what it is. Just another try at this experiment. This trip is longer. Bigger. And there's quite a bit more pressure. But I want to bring you all along for the ride. Bear with me if I can't write up my "dear diary..." every night. Anyways, let's jump to it.

Bring it, Australia!

In similar fashion to nearly a year ago, the buzzer of the intercom rang again, calling for me. But this time, I'm headed somewhere else. To another part of the world. I have no idea what to expect, what to look forward to. But I'm excited at the prospect. The prospect of competing in my first Junior World Championships, this year in Australia. My mission? To make it to Melbourne, Australia, in one piece. Without too much jet lag. With use of my legs, and juice in my brain. With the capability to go out on a piece of carbon fiber, and do what I need to. Good times.

Back to the airport. We check in our skis, pray to whatever airline-checkin-gods exist, and grab some food for the flight. We're on the plane, and I realize I'm picking up a habit for these tournament flights. I'm out before we reach altitude.

Enjoying the impressive architecture of LAX, before heading over the Pacific.

We land in LA, for our layover. It's a short one, and we'll be strapped into our next flight soon. We take a stroll outside, inhale the Pacific breeze, and head back in to look for our gate. We're early for the flight, so we take a moment to breathe before ascending back into the clouds. Grab something else to eat, take a quick nap, and we're on the runway.

Last goodbyes are said before the phones go off. A slight delay, but we're in the air soon, not coming back down to Earth for another sixteen hours. I'm starting to think this'll be the most difficult part of this trip. It's long, but, three movies, probably too little homework, and a couple naps later, we finally touch down.

Sunset from above the clouds.

Out of the airport, we catch our rental car, and set off through Melbourne for a couple hours. Oh, epic Melbourne. Large, sprawling, and impressive. The architecture is unique. The people are refreshingly welcoming. And the food is incredible. If you've not been here yet, do yourself the treat and make it here one day. Several people also asked, from the size of our three-event bag, if we were water skiers. It's nice for people to be aware of the sport, as well as interested, something you don't find many other places in the world.

After exploring the city life, we pack up and head out into the drylands. Not technically the Outback, it's actually quite pleasant, not the quintessential Australian back-bush. Sure, most of the trees are eucalyptus, but the fields are covered with thick, endless, yellow grass. The last three hours pass quickly, with a few landscape photo stops and a couple kangaroo sightings. The enormity of my situation on this planet only really hits me now. What I'm doing. Where I'm going. Where I am. I'm incredibly grateful to all the people and factors that put me here, left reeling at the magnitude of it all.

Majestically standing tall over the Yarra River
bridge, Australia's representation greets us as we
venture into the Aussieland. 

Our destination is Mulwala, right across the border of Victoria and New South Wales, from Yarrawonga. Both small towns. In the middle of nowhere. But to several hundred people, pulled together by this event, these towns are huge right now. We check in to our hotel while checking into next days schedule. Starting tomorrow, familiarization begins. Each country has a couple slots of time throughout these next four days, usually no more than forty minutes long, to fit in as many ski sets as possible. For some, it's a matter of two skiers having two sets each. For others, this means stuffing eight skiers into the slot, giving each skier less than five minutes on the water. This isn't the time to learn anything new. Whatever we've spent the past months, year, learning, we know. This is about getting a feel for the lake. The boat. The climate. 75% mental, the other 25% towards accustomization. This is about getting a feel for the settings we've violently dropped ourselves into, a radical change for some of us coming from places around the world still skiing with full-body wetsuits. Brrr. Australian summers routinely peak above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, something very few of us have had the luxury of training in. But it's an inherent challenge to the sport, something we all willingly take on.

Saturday morning is generous. Our goal is to make sure we get enough sleep to get over any last remnants of jet lag, and I wake up happy with how we've handled it. I manage to get a few sets in Saturday. The lake's feeling good. The water's cool, refreshing, and skis well. Things feel good. The next couple days pass by in similar fashion, some earlier than others. I split up my time between skiing, resting, escaping to document the surrounding landscape with my camera, and catching up on schoolwork. Or trying to, at least.

As I type this up late Monday night, nodding off on my keyboard, we're preparing for the last day of familiarization. Tomorrow's call time isn't too generous; a jarring six am. But we'll take what we can get, and I don't entirely mind early mornings either. The tournament starts Wednesday afternoon, and won't stop until Sunday night.

I hope you'll join me then.