Turning Obstacles into Opportunities

I really didn’t want to write this post, but I finally will.

After a great few weeks in Norway in November, I flew back to the US for International Team Trials and, this year being unique, it was also Phase 3 (out of 4) Olympic Trials in December. I felt more prepared and gained confidence going into these races because I had the opportunity to get a few races under my belt.

I flew into Detroit, Michigan where I had to process through Customs and Boarder Patrol. From the start, I was met with hostility and a very tense environment. The agent checking my passport spoke to me with an unprovoked attitude that I should have known would be setting the scene for the next events.

Once through, I went to get my checked luggage and saw everything except my rifle so I approached an agent who said “oh it’s you, we were waiting for someone to come forward.” He brings me to the agents who have my rifle and need to process it through, this is very standard. He introduced me as the “young lady here to pick up her firearm.” Per usual, they asked for my passport and I tried to hand them my CB Form 4457 which is the paperwork for my firearm. I held my arm out for what felt like a really long time and he just glared at me until I put my arm down. I felt really awkward. He then asks me “why are you here?” and I said “to pick up that firearm” and he said “you should have said that when you approached me” umm… okay? I’m thinking, that is how your colleague introduced me to you a second ago.

Now I am feeling the power dynamic reveal itself.

I could tell immediately how this was about to go. This agent is on a power trip because he can be. More awkwardly waiting until finally they ask me to open the rifle. I open it and can tell they have no idea what to do next. I once again try to hand them my Form and they look at me like I spit in their face for even suggesting it. More waiting. By this point the area is completely cleared except me and the working agents. They click around on their computer until finally they realize they need the paper I have been trying to hand them. They need to compare the rifle number on the paper to the number on the rifle and I was screaming inside watching how they handled my rifle. They swung it around and flagged (pointed) it at other people in the room and generally were being incredibly unsafe with the firearm. Of course it was unloaded, but basic firearm safety is to ALWAYS treat it like it is loaded.

They can’t find the number so I point it out and they instantly yelled at me “don’t touch anything!” I was startled, okay we are yelling now. They then drop my rifle back into the case and close the hard shell lid closed on it. I motioned with my arms and said “please stop! I will repack it!” They stopped, rolled their eyes at me and then pushed down on the case with a lot of force.

I heard it crack.

They finally stopped pushing down, realizing they can’t close it, and say “fine, you can repack it.” When I open it I audibly gasp, “it’s broken” because I can see that the end of the stock has been broken off.

I can feel my ears filling with hot blood and my vision blurring in on the damage because I don’t want to believe my eyes.

“Well, I didn’t break it and DON’T say that I did”

These were the exact words out of his mouth. I stood there in silence, staring at my broken stock, knowing trials is in a few days. I am completely shutting down, I can’t speak.

Before this all happened, there was one agent who asked me how the races went and was genuinely excited to talk biathlon which made me excited to share back! When things got to this point, I looked for him as a comfort and he dropped his head to avoid me. I tried to find comfort in a stranger and was heart broken to see him cower away. He knew what his own colleagues were doing was wrong and he hid.

This is when it really hit me that I am the only woman in the room, surrounded by men in positions of authority, and who are actively abusing said power to excuse their aggressive behavior. They were being bullies and they knew they were going to get away with it. My survival instincts are screaming at me this is really bad, get out of here, get away from them!

“I would like to report this” I finally managed to say. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I needed to report for an insurance claim to get this fixed or at least have an incident report of what just happened, somehow I am going to need proof of this.

This is when his face got really hot and his eyes went wide.

“You REALLY think I broke it?”

I stare at him.

“You really think you are going to say I broke it? I didn’t. You are not going to say I did.”

I stare at him. I am in just complete shock and being gaslit that this didn’t just happen.

Now they’re really mad. They take my duffle bag and dump the entire bag onto the floor. When I bend down to start repacking it, they yell at me, “don’t touch anything!”

I repeat, “I want to file a report”

They were so mad I asked again and dragged their feet to find a supervisor. Time is ticking by and nothing is happening. I know they are trying to wait me out because I have a connecting flight. Jokes on them, I had a 7 hour layover I can wait as long as I need until they get me the report.

I ask for my passport back, I was met with, “no, stop talking.”

Finally, they let me repack all of my stuff on the floor and a supervisor came out to give me the report paperwork. He now too said, “are you sure you think we broke it?” If you really think we did then I can give you this” In my head I am screaming yes I want to file stop trying to gaslight and intimidate me out of it! On the outside, I said a simple “yes.” My sense of a lack of safety told me not to make a scene. They refused to fill out the entire section for “witness” to the incident or give me any full names, but at least I finally had it.

As a final f*ck you, they cut the bag tags off my rifle and hand them to me, “now you have to exit the airport and check back in” with a smirk. The layout of the airport made it so that I had to exit the terminal, take a 15 minute long bus to go around said terminal to the other doors, and check my bags back in where TSA made me open my rifle case again so I had to relive the past two hours. I go back through security where my bag gets pulled, of course right? I call the biathlon program staff to tell them about what just happened, and finally, I just have a cry.

A really sh*tty thing just happened. I felt completely crushed, terrified of the way those men tried to intimidate me, scared that my chances at trials, everything I worked for, is now over, and I was mentally and physically exhausted from an overseas travel day. I curled up like a child and fell asleep, forgetting about the world for a few hours.

I felt really numb going into the races and I tried my best to embrace the good moments and the great people surrounding me on the race course and the sidelines. I managed to pull off some good races despite everything. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to secure me a spot on the team. I sat just outside on the edge looking in and cheering for those who did make it.

I decided this wouldn’t defeat me. I got into contact with the company, Bachmann, who are in Italy and make my rifle stock, and got a new part built. They could not ship to the US or guarantee it would make it due to tariffs, so the biathlon community really stepped up, moving between at least 4 people until it finally landed in my hands this week. This week I also got the news I would be able to race the IBU Cup here on US soil in Lake Placid, New York.

To quote Chloe Levins, this has been a journey of “turning obstacles into opportunities.” I hope to take this opportunity and race some really great races and be proud of the work I put in to make this dream happen.

This season is far from the season I dreamed of, but it is the season that taught me mental strength and tenacity to keep going when things get hard.

I found a sense to calm, peace, joy, and love for everything these last few months. I feel calmer when I am competing and training, I am at peace with what happened, I have found joy in the wonderful community I surround myself with, and I fell back in love with skiing. I fell out of love with it for a while when skiing became my job rather than my happy place.

And through it all, Jenn of Nordjork has been my greatest supporter. I felt like I had let her down when I didn’t initially make an international team. I kept telling myself, I am not a good enough athlete to have a company that would invest in me the way they have with our custom neckie. She probably didn’t know I felt that way because she chose to be loving and supportive every day anyway.

Deep breaths, it’s gonna be great. Let’s race!