November 12, 2025
It’s that time of year when the wax rooms get warmer than the weather and everyone has an opinion about everything. First up, the grand diplomatic project of our age: detente between World Cup skiers and the long-distance folk. Norwegian boss Jørgen Ulvang says relations are “frosty,” which in skiing would usually be a compliment, but not here. He’s calling for a big family reunion, and Sweden’s Anders Blomquist nodded so hard you could hear it over the double-poling. Exhibit A is Ebba Andersson training with Team Engcon, which Blomquist says could make her a better all-rounder. He even suspects the marathon tour might one day switch from classic to skate—at which point somewhere a pine tar candle will snuff itself out. Blomquist doubled down in another segment, calling Ebba a “trailblazer” for hopping formats. If peace breaks out, someone bring a stadium banner: “Make Skiing One Big Mess Again.”
Meanwhile, Norway’s Johannes Høsflot Klæbo continues to live like a monk with a heart-rate monitor. He’s spending Christmas at altitude (some folks hang ornaments; he hangs lactate thresholds). After six-for-six gold in Trondheim, he says the ruthless choices were worth it—even if the nieces and nephews briefly wondered whether they still had an uncle. Catch the full stoic saga here: Klæbo on the bubble life.
Over in biathlon, the French team has enough drama to fill a wax trailer and two courtrooms. There are reports that a teammate allegedly tampered with another’s rifle—which is the shooting-range equivalent of hiding grandpa’s reading glasses during bingo. Olympic champ Björn Ferry called it about the meanest thing you can do, which is saying something for a man who’s watched headwinds. And the Julia Simon saga rolls on: she’s got a one-month suspension from the French federation, may yet face more from the integrity unit, and still stands as an Olympic favorite, because biathlon contains multitudes and also lawyers.
Ski jumping, never to be outdone, is staging its own theater. After the Trondheim suit scandal labeled a “massive blow,” the pre-season banter has gone full spicy. Marius Lindvik told his Austrian rival to clean up before speaking—always good hygiene—and the sport is still picking glitter out of the rulebook from last winter’s wardrobe malfunction. On the brighter side, 53-year-old Noriaki Kasai refuses to read the instructions on aging and jumped to fourth at Japanese nationals. If he makes another Olympics, someone knit that man a commemorative scarf long enough to reach Planica.
As for the weather, it’s November acting like April, but organizers are crafty. Lillehammer says the World Cup will happen on schedule using last year’s snow they’ve kept tucked away like jam in a cellar—only colder and less delicious. Behold the Norwegian plan to carpet the hill in seven days. In Sweden, Idre is short on white stuff, so the season opener morphs into two sprints with time penalties. Think of it as biathlon, but with a kitchen timer: Idre’s tough situation.
Finally, Vasaloppet is re-routing bits of the course to dodge ankle-deep bathtubs in the marshes—same distance, fewer surprise foot spas, and a straighter shot into the stadium for the roar at the end. Dry feet, happy hearts: Vasaloppet’s 2026 tweak.
So the saga continues: tempers hot, temperatures not, and somebody always skiing uphill into a headwind both ways. See you next week; bring skis, opinions, and—just in case—a measuring tape for your suit.