Real Olympians

Mary and I are in Brillion, Wisconsin today at the U.S. Biathlon Masters Championships at the Ariens Nordic Center. This was one of her Christmas gifts. I like giving experiences now. Things are fine. But doing something together — especially something a little different — feels better.

When we arrived this morning, fog hung over the course. For a moment I wondered what kind of day we were in for. Then it started lifting. Like someone blew it away. Ten minutes later it was blue sky and sun on snow. One of those perfect Wisconsin winter days you don’t expect but are grateful for.

All of this is happening while the Winter Olympics are in their second week. Somewhere across the world medals are being handed out. Big broadcasts. Big production. And we’re standing in Brillion watching something that feels just as real.

The Ariens Nordic Center is impressive. It’s a true Olympic training venue. Athletes train here, including Paul Schommer from Appleton, who’s representing Team USA. That makes it feel close. Not something happening “over there.” It’s right here.

I grew up on the Olympics. My mom — a preacher’s wife who also wanted to watch Muhammad Ali fight — kept the TV on all day during the Games. Our little apartment in Evanston felt like Olympic headquarters. Jim McKay’s steady voice. Later Bob Costas. When our son was little, he’d yell, “Bob Costas! Bob Costas!” whenever the coverage started. In our family, the Olympics weren’t background noise. They were an event.

Watching biathlon today brings that feeling back.

If you’ve never seen it live, it’s incredible. These athletes ski hard enough to max out their heart rates, then immediately have to calm themselves enough to hit five targets 50 meters away. Miss and you ski a penalty loop. Hit and you move on. Endurance and precision in the same breath.

We met a woman whose 74-year-old husband is competing. He raced last night and is back out there again today. Long after everyone else in his division finished, he’s still on the course. Just steady. No spotlight. No applause. Just finishing what he started.

Then there’s a completely blind athlete. He skis with a guide giving constant verbal cues about direction and terrain. At the range, his guide tells him where the laser is aligned on the targets. He adjusts. He fires. He hits. Completely blind.

No cameras chasing him. No dramatic music. Just effort.

I love watching the best athletes at the top of their game. I always have. But standing here today reminds me that true Olympians aren’t only the ones on television.

They’re the 74-year-old who races two days in a row and finishes long after everyone else has left.

They’re the blind athlete who trusts his guide and calmly hits his mark.

They’re the people who show up, test themselves, and keep going — even when no one is watching.

The Olympics may be in their second week somewhere far away.

But the Olympic spirit is all around us. Every day.

About Greenland Sharks

Greenland Sharks is a Chicago men's group who value friendship, experiences, and the long swim. Just a crew that shows up. No speeches. No name tags. No nonsense.

Learn more about Greenland Sharks