October 17, 2025
It was one of those weeks when the wax room sounded like a town hall meeting and the start gate felt like confession. Out on the wide, white world of Nordic skiing, three themes kept ringing like cowbells: who gets to race, how on earth to get there, and what happens when the accounts don’t add up.
First, the great unsealing of envelopes: word got out that FIS brass sent a long, earnest letter asking member federations to support letting Russian and Belarusian athletes back in under neutral flags. The letter wore its best manners—politically neutral, nobody chooses their birthplace, IOC precedents, etc.—and asked for quiet replies before a council vote. The Nordic neighbors replied with the Scandinavian version of a head shake. Norway said the situation in Ukraine hasn’t changed; Finland said the same, and added that even if FIS says “yes,” the border at Ruka still says “no.” The Finns and the Russians even found themselves at the same hotel in Ramsau, in that awkward “see you at breakfast, pass the muesli” way. You can read the delicate dance in NRK reveals FIS leaders’ letter seeking support to re‑admit Russian and Belarusian skiers (/cross-country-skiing/nrk-reveals-fis-letter-on-re-admitting-russian-belarusian-skiers-2025/) and the companion dispatch Winter sports: The letter that could decide if Russian athletes may compete again (/cross-country-skiing/letter-could-decide-russian-athletes-reinstatement-fis/).
Meanwhile, biathlon decided to bring the circus to town—Munich’s Olympic Park, to be exact—on rollerskis with a floating shooting range and a DJ, because nothing says precision marksmanship like basslines and bratwurst. Tickets vanished, enthusiasm soared, and then Norway remembered they were at altitude camp in Italy. Solution? Two helicopters, a round‑trip hour in the sky, and a sustainability report that will need extra footnotes. “Performance first,” they sighed, and the glaciers politely frowned. Catch the glitter and the grit in Loop One Festival brings biathlon to the heart of Munich (/biathlon/loop-one-festival-munich-urban-biathlon-rollerski-2025/) and the self‑aware mea culpa in Norwegian biathletes ‘forced’ to take a helicopter — contradicting their own sustainability goals (/biathlon/norway-biathlon-helicopter-decision-contradicts-sustainability-goals/).
In the waxing‑irony department, Germany’s star Franziska Preuss had to skip the party after hand surgery—turns out standing shooting prefers a hand that says “ready” instead of “maybe.” She’s still optimistic for winter, and the German bench is deep, but Munich will miss its headliner. Details in Biathlon star Franziska Preuss withdraws from Munich’s Loop One festival after hand surgery (/biathlon/preuss-withdraws-from-munich-loop-one-festival-after-hand-surgery/).
Over in Austria, biathlon’s Felix Leitner chose the rare path of retiring at 28—young enough to be mistaken for a rookie at the hotel buffet. A bad back, a bad vibe, and the sense that the sport he loved had started loving him back a little less. He left with gratitude, candor, and a polite knock on the federation’s door about priorities. His farewell note is here: “Ciao and bye”: Austrian biathlete Felix Leitner retires at 28 (/biathlon/felix-leitner-announces-retirement-austrian-biathlete-28/) and the longer look at why in Austrian biathlete Felix Leitner explains retirement and criticizes federation (/biathlon/felix-leitner-retires-and-criticizes-austrian-biathlon-system/).
Ski jumping, never one to be outdone in drama per vertical meter, is juggling rulebooks and reputations. Norwegian coaches facing FIS Ethics Committee sanctions wrote back with the polite insistence that unclear rules be clarified before anyone starts swinging the hammer. Their argument, roughly: if the lines were smudged, don’t punish us for coloring outside them. The administrative aria is in “Unclear rules”: Norwegian ski jumping coaches fight FIS sanctions in letter (/ski-jumping/unclear-rules-norway-coaches-contest-fis-ski-jumping-sanctions/).
And just when you think the ledger is the least exciting part of winter sports, Norway’s Trondheim Worlds organizing board got reported to the police after a financial fiasco that keeps finding new chapters in the appendix. The auditors found ignorance but not intent; others would like the law to take a closer look anyway. That frosty breeze you feel is from the accounting office: Worlds organizing board reported to police after financial collapse (/cross-country-skiing/trondheim-worlds-board-reported-to-police-over-financial-collapse/).
There were also the hard, human notes that make the sport feel small and big at once. Laura Dahlmeier’s companion spoke about the rockfall on Laila Peak, the impossible rescue, and the moment when even the strongest plans meet a mountain that will not bargain. It’s heartbreaking and brave: Companion reveals new tragic details about Laura Dahlmeier’s death (/biathlon/companion-reveals-details-laura-dahlmeier-fatal-accident/) and her father’s quiet finality in Tragedy on Laila Peak — Laura Dahlmeier’s father: “Body untraceable” (/biathlon/laura-dahlmeier-father-says-body-untraceable-laila-peak-pakistan/).
Sport runs on rules, timetables, and travel logistics, but it lives on people. This week we saw federations ask big questions, athletes pick hard paths, and a city set a stage on asphalt where snow will soon arrive. The ski tracks will come; the hills will wait. And somewhere, a helicopter pilot is checking a stopwatch while a sustainability officer edits a spreadsheet with a sigh, and a smile, because winter—bless it—always finds a way to start on time.