Norway, Finally.
The last race week of the season, a sprained neck, foggy ranges, and bib number seven at Holmenkollen.
Hello from Oslo.
Not just Oslo. Holmenkollen. Home of nordic skiing.
If you grew up doing Nordic skiing, you know exactly what that name means. It is the home of the sport. Every big name in cross-country and biathlon has raced here. Every kid who has ever put on a pair of skis has dreamed of it. And for whatever reason, it just never happened for me. I missed out on coming here year after year, whether to compete or even just to train for a week.
Last year I came up to watch. To cheer friends on from the side of the course. And I remember standing there thinking, I want to be on that start line.
Today I am.
The race starts in a few hours and I have genuinely been jumping around all morning. So much so that I nearly forgot to write this newsletter. But here we are.
Estonia: So Close, And Yet
Let me quickly go back to last week, because it is still sitting with me.
The sprint in Otepää. I missed the pursuit by 20 seconds. Twenty seconds. One extra missed shot on each stage, and skiing that was just a little too slow on the day. Crossed the line and genuinely thought there was no chance. Then the results started coming in, and the gap was closing, and for a moment I really thought I might sneak it.
I didn’t. Two minutes 44 back, 66th place, 20 seconds short of the top 60.
It was frustrating in a way that is hard to explain. Making the pursuit is my goal every single time I start a sprint race. Not getting there, especially when it gets that close, stings. The wind that week in Estonia was unlike anything I have experienced at a World Cup. Genuinely brutal conditions. But I am not going to hide behind that.
We moved on.
The single mixed relay with Shawna was a different kind of day. I was tired, the wind was relentless, and I picked up two penalty loops on my first standing stage, which in a single mixed relay is simply too much to recover from. We got lapped. A lot of teams got lapped that day. The conditions made it almost inevitable.
But my second prone was one of the fastest on the course that day. I am going to hold onto that.
And the number that actually matters: we are currently sitting 24th in the IBU Nations Cup standings. The top 25 get two quota spots for next season. We are in. That was the mission coming into these final weeks, and we have delivered on it.
Good week, all things considered.
Getting To Oslo
Travel from Estonia to Norway was smooth, which felt like a small miracle after some of the journeys this season.
We are not staying in the city centre. We are up at Holmenkollen itself, at the Scandic hotel right next to the ski jump. The views out over the fjord are genuinely stunning. It is a very different atmosphere to a regular race week hotel.
The first couple of days here, though, were complicated.
It was so foggy that we could not shoot for two full days. Two days on a range I had never been on before, with zero shots fired. The fog was so thick visibility on the targets was simply not possible. I finally got one shooting session in yesterday, the day before the race. It is not ideal preparation. But it is still more than the women got. They went into their race having not shot on this range at all. Incredibly tough.
On top of that, I sprained my neck on Tuesday. Genuinely just woke up and could not move it properly. Spent most of that day lying down, feeling pretty sorry for myself. I was lucky enough to cross paths with the French team physio, who very kindly sorted me out and put everything back where it should be. I owe that person a lot.
The weather here has been warm. Very warm for March in Norway. The snow is soft and wet, and we have not been allowed to ski the actual course in training to try and protect what snow is left. So today I will be racing a course I have never properly skied on before.
New range. New course. New crowd. Let’s go.
Holmenkollen, Race Day
I have bib number seven for today’s sprint although that could change depending on the conditions. Yesterday they reshuffled the start list due to the snow, sending the top athletes out earlier. It might happen again today. But honestly, I am not thinking about that.
There will be a lot of people here today. Holmenkollen is one of the most attended World Cup events on the entire calendar. Thousands of people lining the course, making noise, waving flags. It is exactly the kind of environment that either gets into your head or lifts you to something you did not know you had.
I also want to mention: both of my French coaches are here this week to watch us race. That means a lot. And some of my old IBU Cup teammates are racing here too, athletes who finished first and second overall on that circuit this season and earned the right to race the World Cup final as a reward. It means the field is bigger and the pursuit will be harder. But that is fine. More people to race against.
It has been a long season. I will be honest, I am mentally drained. It has been a year of big decisions, big moments, big pressure, and I have felt every single bit of it. But I am here. At Holmenkollen. About to race.
How many people get to say that?
I will be back next week with a proper debrief of these final races and a look back at everything this season has been.
Follow along today on Eurosport and TNT Sport, or on my Instagram and Strava for everything behind the scenes.
Thank you for reading all season. It genuinely means more than I can say.
Now let’s race.
Jacques
Jacques, I started following you on IG during the Milano Cortina Ganes and your writing here is delightfully evocative! I feel as if I'm on the course cheering you on! Well done and here's to World Cup: Year 2! Onward...