Luke and his Dad hanging out in the Whistler Olympic Village

Thrilled with the opportunity to reconnect with the US Luge Team and the Olympics, it had been my intent to Twitter and blog from the Whistler Olympic Sliding Center trackside, complete with action photos and vignettes of our talented US Olympic squad. Sharing the Vancouver-Whistler experience with my son and seeing the competitions through his eyes, however, I quickly discarded the real-time reporting approach in favor of just taking it all in. Besides, there were boatloads of professional journalists  — with much greater eloquence and photographic hardware than I could muster — to do the real reporting. As my friend Rick Husband, the late, great Space Shuttle Columbia Commander used to say: “You can’t swing a dead cat around here without hitting a (fill in the blank) reporter!” It was a memorable life experience, though, so here are my recollections and reflections…

The loss of a fine young man and luge athlete from the Republic of Georgia, Nodar Kumaritashvili, during a training run the day before the games began, was difficult for the luge family, doubly so for the athletes. Nodar was a talented, up-and-coming slider by many reports, and he had earned the right to represent his country at the Olympics through respectable performances in World Cup competition. The Whistler track, especially from the Men’s start, is wickedly fast — probably the fastest such track on earth — and a subtle error at high speeds of almost 100 mph might magnify into a grisly ricochet ride towards the bottom of the track. Nodar’s final moments being vaulted up and over the lip of the track, directly into a steel beam structure, were horrifying to watch over and over again on TV, but his was just one of several crashes during the build-up to the Games. Even the sport’s elite considered the track technically challenging, and occasionally resulted in spectacular impacts. I’m sure the IOC (International Olympic Committee) and the FIL (Federation Internationale de Luge) will conduct a detailed investigation and reconsider the trend of building ever faster tracks with such thin margins for error. Events such as luge, skeleton, bobsled and downhill skiing will always entail substantial risk that athletes can chose to accept or not, but it sounds like warning signs on this particular track may have gone unheeded…

For the athletes, overcoming the accident, dealing with the resulting anxiety (the “pucker factor”) and continuing the race could not have been easy.  As a result of the fatality, a plywood wall was installed to prevent a slider from cresting the lip of the track and impacting the steel support structure behind it. Each of the luge events were also dropped in start altitude to reduce the overall speed: the Men’s Singles event was run from the traditional Women’s Singles start, and the Women’s Singles and Doubles luge were run from the Junior start. These changes played against many of the athletes, including our US team, as they’d become accustomed to the speed, g-forces and cadence of the track as originally designed. The powerful German team dominated, perhaps because they have more tracks in their country than any other competing nation, and they can quickly adapt to different track conditions as they often do in their training. Regardless, our US team was truly impressive under great pressure, and hopefully they’ll stick around for Sochi 2014 when they’ll be a real force to be reckoned with.

Luke and Scott at the Whistler Olympic Sliding Center with 2x US Olympian and Silver Medalist Gordy Sheer!

One of the real treats of the trip was getting to spend some time with several of our current and former luge Olympians. Hearing their personal stories of drive and determination for an Olympic moment was truly inspirational to my son and me. A conversation while leaving the track (after the Women’s Singles competition) with my friend Gordy Sheer stands out. Gordy typifies the Olympic spirit and character of our team: a 2-time Olympian and one of the first Americans to ever medal in the sport of luge (Silver, on a doubles sled with Chris Thorpe in Nagano 1998), you’d never know of his “rock star” status in the sport. I told him how inspired I was to be at the Games, and how I’d gladly trade him one of his Olympic experiences for one of my spaceflight experiences — no medal required! — and he surprised me by saying he’d also wanted to fly in space as a kid. [We eventually concluded the trade would be tough to make, but that for each of us our 1 out of 2 wasn’t half bad either…] Anyway, I told Gordy how much I admired him, our talented 2010 US Olympic Luge Team (Tony Benshoof, Chris Mazder, Bengt Walden, Julia Clukey, Erin Hamlin, Megan Sweeney, Christian Niccum, Dan Joye, Brian Martin and US flag bearer Mark Grimmette) and all the other athletes who’ve accomplished so much by making it to the Olympics. I hope our 2010 team can stay with it through to 2014 and bring home the medals from Sochi!

Luke and Dad on a Whistler chairlift, in between speed runs

In addition to 5 major events at the luge track, we saw the Men’s downhill ski race from the slopes (we have a commemorative cow bell to prove it), and saw plenty of other Olympic competition on local TV when we weren’t out skiing or exploring the village. What a big thrill to hang out and play hooky from school (and work) to ski with him for a few days!

Quote of the trip, courtesy of my son, when watching the sport of curling on CTV: “I wonder how they find people for curling? Do they recruit maids?” (naturally meaning no disrespect for the housekeeping profession…!)

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Here are a couple of links that harken back to my luge experiences, if interested:

Astronaut, former luger visits Lake Placid schools http://www.lakeplacidnews.com/page/content.detail/id/500920.html?nav=5005

NYT: Astronaut’s Adventure on Earth: Luge http://www.nytimes.com/1998/11/06/sports/olympics-astronaut-s-adventure-on-earth-luge.html?pagewanted=1

How lucky can a lucky guy get? I’m thrilled to to serve as an Honorary Captain of the US Olympic Luge Team, about to take on the rest of the world’s best in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Having once trained and competed for such a coveted spot, I admire these athletes deeply. Luge is an incredibly demanding sport, requiring dedicated training for many years to have a shot at the Olympics — and without the fanfare and sponsorships of the likes of downshill skiing or figure skating. They train, they go to school, they work, and soon they’ll compete for their nation and for themselves. It will be a great honor to be there with my son to cheer them on. 

http://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/wyles-scott-parazynski-serves-as-honorary-captain-of-us-luge-team-in-vancouver-games-82694757.html

In the days ahead I’ll introduce the team here (along with some of the coaches and my fellow HC’s). Make sure you catch the competition February 13 through February 17!

Mount Everest is calling me again. A week from today I will begin to answer that call, my first step being a very long flight to Katmandu. Last spring, after 59 arduous days on the mountain, I came tantalizingly close to reaching the summit, but had to turn back due to a severe back injury. Since then my determination to reach the summit has only strengthened, and I am physically and mentally ready for another shot at it.

As I make this second summit bid, I hope to bring many of my friends – both old and new – along with me via this website. While this is a personal quest for me, in many ways, what I do – and how I do it – resonates with many other types of exploration, both on here on earth and in space. Therefore, I hope to use this climb to allow a wider audience, young and old alike, to gain some insight into how the business of exploration is done.

Close friends often give me a dazed and rather bewildered look when I tell them I’m going back to Everest this spring. “Didn’t you get close enough to the summit to call it good?” “Didn’t you blow out a disc in your back?” “Why would you want to go through all that suffering again?” The interrogation often continues, leading me to believe that some people just don’t get it: The challenge of Everest beckons me like no other, and a safe, round trip to the summit and back has been a daily focus since my fateful descent on May 21, 2008:

There I was, literally just 24 hours from standing atop the world’s tallest mountain, 6:30 am, May 21, 2008. The radio call from Casey had just come in, indicating that he, Ari, Danuru and Dawa had actually done it, and with extra determination I gave my pack a hoist, wincing in sharp pain in the process.

Just the day before I’d awoken with low back spasms (something I’ve dealt with intermittently in the past), but I had still managed to climb the very steep Lhotse face between Camps II and III in a very respectable four and a half hours, cinching my climbing harness like a weight lifter’s belt. The night at Camp II had been hard, unable to find a comfortable position for my low back for more than a minute or two. I told myself to persevere, the summit was tantalizingly close — by morning all would be well, else I’d just “ignore” the stabbing pain and press on to the top.

My buddies Adam, Kami, Namgya, Bob and others at camp were as helpful as friends could ever be under the circumstances — getting ready to move up to Camp IV for our summit assault — placing a fresh oxygen cylinder in my backpack and installing the crampons on my boots (there was no way I’d have been able to reach them. With their encouragement I braced myself and led off up the steep slope towards the Yellow Band on a test run. Within 10 paces I did an about face and told my friends “I’m done,” averting my wet eyes from probably some of theirs. I knew that if I continued up with them I’d slow them dramatically, possibly compromising their summit success, and conceivably place them in a rescue situation (mine). After 59 days on this expedition, and a lifetime of dreaming about it, it was a painful but easy decision to turn away from the summit…

For some people, the cliche “the cup is half full” applies. For others it chronically appears empty. But for me the cup usually sits at three quarters full – or better. I’m a realist, but with a generally optimistic spin. I have carefully thought through a return to the mountain this year. I know with certainty that I am physically, technically and mentally capable of summiting and descending safely. That is, provided several “ifs”: the weather cooperates; I can stay healthy, hydrated and well nourished; the route and our provisioning at high camps comes together as planned; and I keep the proper focus on personal and team safety.

Ask any of my teammates from last season and they’d tell you I had the right stuff for the summit: I was climbing efficiently and quite fast, thanks to my wonderful Sherpa friend, Kami. I had acclimatized well and I had stayed healthy for the most part (everyone gets the “Khumbu cough” to a certain extent). I had kept up with my calories and fluids as well as could be hoped (I still ended up losing 25 lbs when it was all said and done, however), and I had placed a premium on safety for myself and those around me. What I was lacking last year was plain old luck — but I do have ample tenacity and a very strong sense that 2009 is the year I’ll see the top!

I used to compete in a sport called Luge, a winter Olympic event on ice that some would say is a bit crazy – yet I know it to be one of the most exciting on Earth. Luge requires bursts of strength, navigating steep banked curves at speeds up to 85 miles an hour and 6-g’s of acceleration, all while keeping your head back as far as possible for the best aerodynamic cut down the track.

I remember one evening run in particular on the Lake Placid Olympic track. It was nearly 40 degrees below zero. Coupling in the wind chill, the equivalent temperature was -60 degrees F. At the start I was shivering . Just 45 seconds later, at the finish line, my heart was racing at 160 beats per minute and I was panting and sweating from the intense effort.

We could only do 3 or 4 runs each training session, both because of the wear and tear on our bodies, and because of the set up time between runs for every member of the team. In between runs on the track, we would lie down on a bench in the start house and “previsualize” ourselves going down the track, turning our heads and shoulders into the imagined curve, pulling in the opposite leg to drive a perfect (fast) line down the track. With practice, we would drive our imaginary course in almost exactly the same amount of time as when we launched off of the real start handles.

This has been a long digression, but I have previsualized my every step of the way up and down Everest, and I intend to follow up with the real thing in the coming 6-8 weeks! Please join me, Sherpa Danuru (who will be my climbing sidekick this season — much more about him later), Keith Cowing, Miles O’Brien and the NASA trekking team as we undertake this epic adventure!