THE HUMAN SLINGSHOT
Margins of victory at the Richmond speed skating oval are as thin as the skaters’ skin suits. Those suits, incidentally, are part of the inspiration for Allinger’s championing of the Top Secret program. Back in 2002, Allinger was living in Salt Lake City, attached to the U.S. Olympic speed skating team. He recalls sitting in the stands overhearing two discouraged top Canadian skaters. “We can’t beat those Americans,” one said. “Their suits are too fast.” Not good, thought Allinger. “Mentally, they had a barrier there.”
Not this year. Three years of fabric research, design and wind tunnel testing produced a suit that cuts air friction. Sports apparel maker Descente is producing the suits for exclusive Canadian use at Games time. “We know we’re going to have the fastest suit there based on what we’ve done,” says Allinger. Canada’s skaters have already had the benefit of one of the most exotic weapons in the Top Secret arsenal: the speed cable. Think of a human slingshot—or, as performance analyst Dorotich puts it, a water skier’s tow rope. Instead of a boat, there is a giant rotating spool.
Cornering at high speeds is one of the greatest challenges skaters face. Since their training doesn’t usually peak until Olympic Games time, they are often hitting corners then at speeds they’ve rarely reached before. A wobble costs precious fractions of a second; a fall is disastrous. Skaters start at one end of the straightaway and are yanked up to speeds as high as 65 km/h. Then they let go of the rope, get into their skating stride and hit the corner, allowing them to practise their technique time after time. The system has proven popular among Canada’s Olympic-level skaters, and lineups for the catapult are common, says speed skater Godbout. The cable solves a coaching challenge, says Dorotich. “It’s hard work to get up to that speed,” he says. “How do we train at high enough quality without over-training them physically?”
ALL’S FAIR. ISN’T IT?
It’s naive to think Canada is doing anything different from the kind of R & D work other countries have conducted for decades. “In a number of these areas, we’re catching up,” says Jackson. “In two or three or four areas, we’re probably moving ahead.” FES has just rolled out a new bobsled for the German team with an advanced aerodynamic design. The Norwegians, based on decades of research, are experts in Nordic skiing technology.
But technology has a dark side. An argument can be made that the rash of injuries devastating the Canadian alpine team and several of its international rivals this season is due to ski technology that tests the limits of racecourse design and human physiology. “The skis are getting better,” Canada’s Manuel Osborne-Paradis said after winning his second World Cup medal of the season. “Knees and ligaments aren’t.” He blamed a combination of factors, including the extreme cold, for the injuries that knocked five Canadian racers out of Olympic contention by mid-December. “Our equipment is evolving faster than our human bodies.”
It’s a process of evolution that’s only picking up speed in international sports. Canada risks getting left behind if—as happened after Montreal and Calgary—we stop backing our athletes with the financial and administrative resources brought to bear in the last four years. “Where do we go after the Games—does all of this special funding that was created disappear?” asks Jackson. “If it does, we lose everything: we lose 150 positions of coaches and sports science people, the whole Top Secret program.” That could have a disastrous impact in two years. “We need to transfer a bunch of the knowledge to the summer sports, too,” says Allinger, who fears the will to finance elite sports programs may fade after the Olympics. “That’s a concern,” he says. “But I think we’ll end up being No. 1, and who’s going to want to turn the tap off then?”
