Covid-era racing: What happens if you get a cold on the World Cup?
Written by GRP Biathlete Jake Brown
Jake Brown at training on the World Cup
Today my Covid test count will reach 23 for the season. All negative! Our team has been lucky to have had no cases- the closest we’ve had is one of our physios testing positivebefore he was scheduled to join us. Luckily for him it was an asymptomatic case.
One of the unforeseen benefits of so many following the IBU and US Biathlon Covid rules and regulations is that we’ve encountered fewer episodes of minor illness while on the road. Finally in early January in Oberhof, Germany I picked up the first cold of the team for this season. I felt it coming on as a fuzzy sensation in my throat after a short strength workout, and thought perhaps it was just an allergy from breathing right next to the hotel carpet. The middle of the night revealed otherwise when I had trouble sleeping because of pains in my throat.
The next day was the men’s 10km sprint. In the morning I checked the “Sore Throat” box on my USOC symptom checklist and received an automatically-generated email from the USOC that my QR code wouldn’t let me into any USOC facilities in Colorado Springs or Lake Placid as I “may be experiencing symptoms of COVID-19”. Unhelpful. I told my coach (Vegard Bitnes) at breakfast and ate apart from the team. Knowing that I often get sore throats, he was not so concerned for me but rather concerned that we jump through the correct hoops by following the correct protocol. There was a good chance that by IBU rules I would not be able to race. Luckily for me, Vegard was able to get into quick contact with the chief IBU doctor who is responsible for developing and managing the Covid rules and regulations on the circuit. She explained that if I wanted to race I would need to submit two negative rapid antigen tests prior to reporting to the venue. Since the IBU structured Covid-testing regimen was not open at the time and only administered PCR tests anyway, she gave Vegard the names of three team doctors who were approved to administer rapid tests on their own.
One of these three docs was the German team doctor. Vegard called up Bernd Eisenbichler, the former US Biathlon Chief of Sport now commanding the DSV (Germany’s biathlon governing federation) and got connected with their doctor. With just over two hours until race time, he gave me a call and told me to mask up, glove up, hop in a van and get myself to the venue. I arrived and followed Vegard (in a van of his own) to a dimly lit alley behind the venue (just kidding). It was a snowy parking lot behind the venue but “dimly lit alley” better reflects my feeling for the ordeal. I lowered my window slightly and chatted with Vegard as we waited for the German doctor to arrive. I had received Covid test on Covid test, but each location seems to have their own procedure and each doctor or nurse seems to have their own style. The inconsistency allows for the development of nervous anticipation before each test. At that time, my worst test experience had been with the woman who tested us in Vuokatti. She went in far, then farther, and spun the swab for what felt like minutes but was likely around 20 seconds. Little did I know I was about to experience a new worst test.
After five minutes the German doctor arrived, uncharacteristically late by German standards I imagine. He donned safety goggles, gloves, and a mask but was otherwise decked out in the German biathlon team regalia- which was sort of a strange sight to me. Between his outfit and the setting, it sure wasn’t your typical Covid test. He said hello and asked about my symptoms, then explained the usual, that he would perform two tests, one in the throatand one in the nose.
Caution: The following describes an uncomfortable Covid test. Continue reading at your own discretion.
The nose came first. He went for the right nostril. Halfway in, or so I thought anyway, he encountered some resistance. He tried to power through, gently at first, and I began to feel that typical watering of the eyes and pressure behind them building up. But the doctor was unsatisfied so he removed the swab and chose to switch nostrils. Lefty, this time, would be the recipient of his wrath. Again, however, he encountered resistance. I suppose my cold really was coming on strong in my nasal passageways. This time, however, he would not be deterred, and with a twist, a push, then another twist, he broke through the snot jam and continued. Further. And then further, rotating as he went. My eyes filled and my head started to vibrate as he continued. I wanted to murmur, “OK, that’s enough,” but thought better than to show any more weakness than my body already was. I tried to accept the pain and convinced myself that he would remove the swab now, as usual. Instead he moved the swab to the side, continuing to twirl, so that it pressed against the inside of whatever passage he was into by this point. Then he started to remove it, but *psych* he went back in. Back and forth, he scraped against the inside of my nasopharyngeal cavity until he was finished.
I wiped my eyes and looked at Vegard. His eyes were the size of golf balls. He sort of shook the look from his face as I looked over. The doctor was holding a swab lined with blood up to the handle. Sheesh. Then he went for the mouth and again came up with blood. Yikes! “Don’t worry about the blood,” he said. Thanks. I said, “Wow, that was worst I’ve had yet,” to which he asked sarcastically, “Well, you want to get a good result, right?” Hey, whatever I need to do to race.
I put my mask on again and the doctor explained to Vegard and I that he would have the results back within a half hour. He and Vegard continued to chat right outside my door while I felt a warm sensation on my upper lip, then on my chin. The blood? I wasn’t sure. Vegard and the doctor continued to chat as I squirmed in my seat, waiting for them to step away. I tipped my head forward to let any blood pool in my mask. Impatiently I cracked the door and interrupted. “Um, excuse me, I need to go blow my nose.” I ran over to the snowbank at the edge of the lot, took my mask off, and blew my nose, spattering the bank with red. Whoa. I looked at my mask and saw a pool of blood in the mask. I dumped it out. OK, that was hard core.
I replaced my mask, walked back to the van, and drove back to the hotel. Soon enough, I had a text from Vegard confirming that my tests had come back negative. I was cleared to race.
Some races, I can taste blood in my mouth at the finish line. On that day, I tasted blood from the start. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but racing wasn’t the most painful thing I’d encountered that day. I could push pretty hard.
I feel that I was really lucky to get to race that day, let alone at all this season. Being able to receive two tests the morning of a race just so that I, a mid-pack racer, can toe the start line, is a huge privilege of racing on the World Cup. At nearly any other race besides the World Cup, I would never have been able to race with a symptom of Covid, no matter how common it was for me to get sore throats prior to the pandemic. In the absence of testing, it’s not worth the risk right now to allow an athlete with a sore throat to be at the venue. So being able to get this test done, despite the discomfort, is something I’m very grateful for.
Finally cleared to race!
After the race I finally connected with our team doctor, who was beginning his day in the US. I was curious if there was a chance I could have had a false negative, since I had heard that rapid antigen tests were prone to inaccuracies, and potentially I needed to stay distanced from my roommate. He explained that if I did have Covid and that the sore throat was a result of the virus, then I most likely would have enough virus to trigger a positive antigen test result. The fact that I had two negative tests made him very comfortable with me rejoining the team while following our usual (non-Covid) sickness protocol. Our team was scheduled anyway for a PCR test that evening, and all results came back negative. That cleared my conscience.
On the IBU World Cup and IBU Cup, the International Biathlon Union provides testing of all teams about three times per week, including soon after arriving at a new venue and before departing to the next one (You can follow the IBU’s testing results on twitter (@biathlonworld) where they publish the numbers of positive cases and the associated nations). Both the IBU and USBA have their own Covid Codes of Conduct, which include mask wearing, social distancing, and the like. If you’re interested in learning more about the IBU official guidelines for athletes, staff, and event organizers, see the following link.