Ski, aim, shoot: The tiny New England biathlon club hits above its caliber

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Lying at ground level in the range, John Carty aims his rifle to shoot at a series of small targets far in the distance across the snowy field. (Photos by Hannah Taylor)

On a picture-perfect winter morning, eight biathlon racers gathered to compete at the Harvard Sportsman’s Club (HSC) on Saturday. No one will earn a medal or take home prize money; they race because they love the sport.

Event organizer and participant Don Perks explained that the race in Harvard has been happening for “roughly 20 years,” and most people probably don’t know about it. According to Perks, there are only 4,000 registered, dues-paying U.S. Biathlon members in the entire country, spread among 20 biathlon clubs. It’s a niche sport, and because the Harvard Sportsman’s Club has treated Massachusetts Biathlon, this state’s biathlon club, so well, the group sometimes calls itself HSC Massachusetts Biathlon: “The Harvard Sportsman’s Club has been awesome. Hugely supportive,” Perks said.

Biathlon, traditionally a winter sport, combines cross-country skiing with rifle marksmanship. Competitors begin by skiing a predetermined distance, usually a mile, that loops to a shooting range. They then take five shots with a bolt-action .22 long rifle at targets 50 meters away, roughly half a football field. When they shoot prone (lying on the ground), they must hit a target the size of a golf ball. When they shoot standing, the target enlarges to a circle the size of a DVD.

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Don Perks aims his rifle at the targets during the shooting portion of the biathlon.

The above process repeats so that the racer skis five times and shoots four (twice prone, twice standing), and the challenge is to shoot accurately with a heart thumping at maybe 170 beats per minute. “You can be a great skier, but can you shoot?” said racer Reed Shea. Each shot a racer misses costs them 30 seconds, so the misses really add up and hurt a competitor’s time. “When your heart beats, your rifle rises up and down, and once you get into the race, the psychological part kicks in, which leads to more inaccurate shooting,” Perks said.

Before the race could begin under crystal blue skies, the racers themselves had to prepare the course. They measured distances, touched up targets with spray paint, laid down rubber mats for shooting prone, and marked the finish line with a pair of snowshoes. When the course was complete, Perks reviewed the safety protocols as well as some of the basic rules, and then the racers took target practice, adjusting their rifle sights for a light breeze that wandered over the snow.

Unfortunately, for this race, on this particular Saturday, the snow was too soft to groom so instead of skiing, most of the participants ran, although snowshoeing and biking are also acceptable. Hence, biathlon races can happen all year long so long as the combination of vigorous exercise and shooting remain intact.

This is not true for the Olympics. For the Olympics, racers must ski, probably because biathlon has its roots in Scandinavian military groups. In 1767, Norway and Sweden held competitions between their patrol groups, and in 1928, biathlon appeared at the Olympics as a military demonstration sport. By 1960, it became an official Olympic event for the men and in 1992, an official event for the women.

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Chadwick Aryana takes the lead in the running portion of the biathlon. With poor snow conditions for cross-country skiing, athletes ran or snowshoed the length of the course instead.

So is this what these eight men were thinking about on Saturday morning? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean Don Perks isn’t proud of what Massachusetts Biathlon has created. Of 40 members, 15 are teenagers and compete at the junior level, and according to Perks, “Junior Biathlon is full-on, 100% locked in.” In fact, under coach Chris Li, Alex Taylor and Mirra Payson, both female New England teenagers, have made the U.S. Development Team and are competing in Europe right now. Those two athletes both learned and practiced the sport here in Harvard at the Sportsman’s Club, as did approximately eight others.

By the end of the morning, the results were in. Chadwick Aryana, a dual citizen Australian in his mid-20s had won. “In Australia, you don’t have this opportunity with this kind of sport, not where I’m from, and that’s why I enjoy it.” Shea, an endurance sports enthusiast who has run 40-mile ultramarathons added, “I’m new this year to the sport … and it’s an interesting combination of endurance and precision. It’s a really interesting challenge.” But perhaps Perks said it best: “We do it because we love the sport, and we’re centered on personal achievement. It’s simple. Your reward is participating in the sport well.”

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