By Bill Shein
February 12, 2010

With the Winter Olympics underway in Vancouver, it’s time to pose that familiar quadrennial question: Just what is this so-called sport called “biathlon?” And who came up with the odd idea to combine cross-country skiing with firing a gun – while unarmed spectators stand nearby? 

Was biathlon some kind of joke that went horribly wrong? One that eventually – and hilariously – rose to the level of Olympic sport? Were other unusual combinations considered but abandoned? Ski jumping and stamp collecting? Figure skating and Sudoku? Bobsledding and needlepoint? Ice hockey and baking? 

As a public service, I spent much of the past month engaged in imaginary research about biathlon. Where did it begin? What are its rules? Why is it virtually unknown in the United States, where (a) many people like to cross-country ski, and (b) most Americans can’t walk 10 feet without tripping over a pile of guns? 

According to actual historians, biathlon grew out of 19th century military training in Scandinavia, a region of the world that is cold, often dark, quite snowy, and easily conquered. Military units patrolled on skis and used rifles to repel invaders.

This defense strategy was developed in the 1860s, after Norway was briefly ruled by Hoppy the Brave, a white-tailed rabbit whose ferocious bunny army easily overwhelmed Norway’s previously unarmed border guards. The Norwegians’ heavy winter boots also made pursuit of bunnies difficult in deep snow.

The solution? Cross-country skis and rifles. Within days, Hoppy was forced into exile and Norway’s king was restored to the throne. Alpine rabbit stew became an instant Norwegian favorite. And the sport of biathlon was born.

Today, biathletes compete in a six-to-12-mile ski race that is interrupted several times for target shooting. Competitors must go directly from the heart-pumping skiing competition to the shooting range, where a relaxed, steady hand is required. If biathletes miss a target, they ski a penalty loop of 150 meters or take a time penalty, the length of which is determined by how many spectators were wounded. The fastest overall time wins. Got it?

Biathlon categories include individual, relay, sprint, pursuit, and mass start. Interestingly, in the pursuit competition biathletes are permitted to shoot at their rivals. But they can only aim for the legs. Mortally wounding another biathlete is considered extremely bad form, and typically results in a devastating 60-second penalty and an embarrassing appearance on “CSI: Biathlon.”

According to not a single historian, biathlon also has American roots. An early draft of the Second Amendment – since lost to history – said, “The right of the people to keep and bear arms while skiing shall not be infringed.” After much debate, this was changed to, “The right of the people to keep and arm bears, who may sometimes be skiing, shall not be infringed.”

While jokes about “arming bears” are today considered lame, in the 1780s many Americans actually used armed bears to protect their frontier homesteads. And across western New England, annual “Bearathlon” festivals were held, featuring banquets, bonfires, and a competition very similar to Olympic biathlon, but with far less TV coverage. Bearathlons were an example of inter-species cooperation and friendship that ended when we returned to hunting and consuming animals rather than employing them as armed, skiing guards.

Ultimately, the Second Amendment transposed the words “arm” and “bear” and eliminated the skiing reference entirely. The rest is history: A nation awash in guns, and with no memory of bears’ outstanding marksmanship skills, skiing expertise, or friendship with early Americans. And no more festive Bearathlons. Oh well.

Today, with American biathlete Tim Burke in medal contention in Vancouver, this bizarre sport – hugely popular in Europe – may soon get a second look here. If that happens, no doubt we’ll craft uniquely American versions like “America’s Next Top Biathlete” and “Ultimate Biathlon” and “Mixed-Martial Biathlon” and “Survivor: Biathlon” and “Call of Duty 3: Modern Biathlon.”

We’ll probably jettison the skiing part, too. 

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Bill Shein prefers sports that don’t involve firearms. Like competitive napping.