Run, Karla, Run!

WHISTLER, BRITISH COLUMBIA — 1:20 pm: It’s Day 2 of competition and I’m coming to you from the Whistler Sliding Center. The second and final day of men’s singles luge competition has just gotten underway.

It’s rainy and dank here in Whistler. But the show must go on. So I’m coming to you from the Sliding Center’s Media Center. There are no tables out on the course and the viewing areas are standing room only and covered. While—unlike me—my computer is not made of sugar, it is made of many electrical bits that don’t like to get wet.

So unlike yesterday, I won’t be bringing you play by plays from the luge competition. But I hope I’ll be bringing you something just as good.

Welcome to my backstage media tour. I’ve always wondered how the workers bees make all the magic happen. Now that I’m here, I get to see behind the velvet curtain. So through the eyes of the luge competition, I’ll take you on a tour of what covering a major world event is like.

I’ll pop out onto the course, and then report back to let you know what the vibe out there is like. I can hear the cowbells clanking on the media feed we have in the room. So I’m thinking it’s going to be good. Stay tuned!

2:35 pm: I’m back from the luge course. The sliders have all finished their third run. The fourth and final run will begin in about 20 minutes.

My day began about six and a half hours ago in Vancouver. After a quick stop at Starbucks, I boarded a media bus from the Main Media Center (or Centre, as they like to say here.) The Media Center, which houses press rooms, work rooms, and national media offices like the USOC’s, is the main hub for all things press. We have our very own food court complete with a McDonald’s. And we have a very handy intranet system called Info 2010, which gives media up to the minutes results, news, medal tallies (the U.S. is currently at 5, by the way), weather, transportation information, and all the other important things we need to know.

Access to all things media is open to the accredited press, such as myself, who have these magical and marvelous press credentials hanging from our necks. They serve as out tickets to all events, with a few exceptions; in demand events like the opening ceremonies, figure skating, and certain hockey matches require tickets even of the press. No we don’t have to pay for them, but we do have to sign up to receive them. Each country is alloted a certain number and then distributes them among their national press. For the USOC, ticket preference is given to organizations that have a history of covering the event, news outlets with hometown athletes, etc. We find out the day before the event if we will receive a golden ticket. I’m waiting to hear if I got a ticket to pairs figure skating for tomorrow night, for example.

But for now, I am at luge. Members of the press ride a vast network of buses from venue to venue. The media bus carried me to Whistler via the Sea to Sky Highway. It’s a gorgeous two hour drive along British Columbia’s coast and into the mountains. From the Whistler Media Center, where the bus drops me off, I board another bus to the Whistler Sliding Center. But that’s not all. When I arrive at the Sliding Center, I board yet another airport shuttle type bus to take me to the venue’s Media Center. Unlike the grumblings I have heard about the spectator transportation, it’s all perfectly organized.

So, here I am at the Media Center. Now what? The Venue Media Center is a temporary encampment, with a bathroom trailer outside. It’s kind of like camping, but with thousands of dollars of media equipment. There is one giant room with work stations surrounded by televisions. Writers and photographers work away, while people come and go from the course. As a female, I am grossly outnumbered by men about 5 to 1 I’d guess just by eyeballing it.

But since I don’t want to watch the competition in here, I have to venture outside to the course. Thankfully, it has stopped raining and the sun is shining hot. So I make my way down a hill and into the viewing area to see what the crowd is up to. There is a grandstand filled with spectators, the back of which is a Press Viewing Area. But with my magic press pass, I can also venture down into the general admission area that sits inside of the now infamous curve 16, also known as “Thunderbird.”

The crowd? Let’s just say they’ve been drinking a lot of beer. It’s not unlike a mosh-pit with a swath of people moving to and fro. A jumbo screen above the track shows the luger at the start and along the course. And when he speeds by the entire crowd cranes their necks from left to right in unison. And every time a luger flies by, the fans scream “Woooooo!” en masse.

There are more Canadian flags than I can possbily count and when Canadian Ian Cockerline slides down the start, the cow bells ring and everyone–even a group of Americans in stars and stripes hats–lets it rip.

What’s the mood? Definitely vibrant. But I look at the official flags above corner 16 flying half mast, where Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili tragically crashed during a training run on Friday, and I wonder. When I talk to a few people who are standing mere steps from where it occurred, they shake their heads.

“It could have been avoided,” said Andrea Powers, a 20-year-old Canadian student from Ottowa who is working in the American House for the duration of the games. Providing all athletes more access to the course and padding dangerous spots, which has now been done, are two actions she felt could have been done earlier.

Despite the tragedy, the competition is under way and the crowd seems determined to enjoy themselves.

Spectators line the entire inside length of the course, raising cameras and trying to snap a shot as the lugers race past. “I’m about one for 20,” one person said about their photos. Blink and you’ll miss it really is appropriate in this sport.

Between racers, officials lower shades over the track to protect it from the sun. When a luger slides down the chute, the shades go back up.

I leave the spectator area and venture up to the mixed zone, where media interview athletes immediately after they finish racing. Every venue has a mixed zone, and here at the sliding center it’s up a long hill near the finish. Media can either walk or ride a shuttle. I walk, enjoying the break from all the sitting I do. The mixed zone is shaped like a long “U.” Athletes first pass the rights-holding broadcasters like NBC and then they pass through the written press, like me, on the other side of the U. They don’t have to stop and talk, and some do and some don’t, but even if they don’t I think it’s interesting to see their faces after they finish. Do they look happy? Do they look focused? Do they furrow their brows? Everyone is different.

After the event is over, the Venue Media Center hosts a press conference with the medalists. Last night at short-track, I stuck around to see Apolo Anton Ohno and see what he had to say about winning a silver medal. The same will be true here at luge. The winners will be trotted out for the media to ply with questions, as we are apt to do. But I have to say, it’s all surprisingly civilized. Reporters meekly raise their hands to ask a question without jostling and clamoring to have the floor. It’s not at all like what I imagined. It’s much better.

And when luge is over for the day, I will board the shuttle to take me to the bus to take me to another bus to take me back to my hotel in Vancouver.

But for now, I can hear the cow bells ringing again, which means the men have started their fourth and final runs down the track. The crowd is screaming, the luge is roaring on the ice, and someone–probably a German–is about to win a gold medal.

This post originally appeared in the Washington Times Communities on Feb. 14, 2010.