The Beginning

Hey Colorado Biathlon,

As your only club member on the World Cup (though I fully expect this to change any year now- I'm looking at you, Walter), I'm trying to keep you all up to speed on my doings, so you can make sure I'm representing you appropriately.

I just landed back in our colorful state last night, fresh in from Jericho and Lake Placid, and a brutal test week with U.S. Biathlon.  The sharpness is back in the air, the light has turned from the softer yellow of summer to the whiter, harsher light of fall.  I have been away from Colorado too long, and September has already passed.

What I like about fall is all of its beginnings.  Boulder exists quite independent of our university, and most of my daily life no longer interacts with it. Still though, the 30,000 students who return for the semester changes the cadence of the city.  This I love. 

Education is a lifelong process. It is accelerated by the halls of great universities, and slowed by the grinding repetition of life itself. Fall will always be the start of a fresh round of learning, from the youngest children to the oldest professors. Education is the very foundation on which humanity stands. In many places in our union it is crumbling and it is faulty, but still it stands. It is the nature of humans to learn, it is why we came into being and why we build great cities, create beautiful artwork, accomplish great feats, love, hope, and dream. 

To some people, fall is colors, the rising dark, and the cold of rain. To me, looking down from my balcony at the matching roofs of our state's flagship university, it is a new beginning.  It is passed from the old generation to the new, whether forcibly or voluntarily, whether in the classroom, the practices of professionals, or out in the open air.  It is a time of introspection, because in the end, no one can teach you to grow, or change, or learn. These things you must do yourself, and it is your duty, your honor, your heritage, and your privilege to do so. 

After attending this University for the last six years, I have less than ten photos of it.  How sad is that? 

She (Ralphie, the buffalo) faces East because Nebraska used to be our big rival, but I guess now she's just catching the sunrise.  This was about 20 minutes before I gave myself a nasty shoulder injury on the bench press that's still healing.  All I think when I see this is,  DON'T GO TO THE GYM, YOU IDIOT.

I told you I looked down on campus.

That's probably not what you wanted to hear from me.  You wanted me to tell you what test week is, and all the secrets of USBA training (so you can outshoot Lowell next year), and what Susan's favorite color is, is it true that it's always hot and wet in Jericho (yes!), and Joanne, do you REALLY have a naked lady on your rifle? 

See, it's not as blasphemous as you thought.

Test week is a whole bunch of intervals, rollerski time trials, running time trials, biathlon time trials, shooting tests, shooting drills, and general mayhem.  Jennie Bender and I did some brutal intervals up the toll road on Whiteface Mountain before it even started, and then pretended we weren't tired at all. 

Jennie: Joanne, do a superman pose.  Me: Looks indecisive instead.

We ran up some huge hill (Jennie won).  We rollerskied up some not very long hill (Jennie and I tied), we did a mini-biathlon time trial (I won), we shot at things (Maddie definitely won), then we went to Jericho for a full length time trial (Susan finally showed up and made us all look pathetic).  Guess what? I cleaned some stages!

It was wet.

Be brave!

-Joanne

P.S. I started a gofundme for my commuting back and forth between Colorado and Lake Placid, a lifestyle choice that USBA isn't overly thrilled about.  I haven't decided if that's an appropriate fundraising reason. But really.... our state is better, right?

https://www.gofundme.com/JFiresteel