We continue with the final installment about Czech biathletes. This time, we focus on interesting insights from Michal Krčmář, one of the most experienced members of the current Czech national team.

Some athletes win with grace and lose with a smile. Michal Krčmář is not one of them, and he admits it without hesitation.

“Every failure frustrates me, especially when I know I have what it takes and can’t deliver,” Krčmář says to Bezky.net.

It is precisely this refusal to settle for easy self-acceptance that may be the greatest strength of one of the best Czech biathletes today.

Losing as a craft

“Who taught you how to lose?” – to this question, Krčmář responds with characteristic bluntness: “It seems I had to learn it myself.”

In individual sports, losses are harder to digest than in team sports. There’s no one to hide behind, no one to blame for a poor performance. Krčmář knows this. And yet, or perhaps because of it, he insists that he still doesn’t know how to lose in the true sense of the word.

“If you want to be a quality athlete, you must not know how to lose. But you should know how to deal with it.”

There’s a fine line between healthy ambition and destructive frustration. Krčmář often grapples with these feelings.

The missing locker room

Biathlon is an individual sport. However, Michal used to play football, and he misses the collective aspect in his competitive life.

“I miss the locker room a bit in biathlon, so I try to make up for it in relays.”

A group of men, a common goal, shared adrenaline – that cannot be completely replaced.

Still, he does not fall into romanticizing the situation. In a team, you will always find true friends, lifelong companions. But there are also people with whom you must learn to function on a collegial basis.

“You won’t go for a beer or coffee with them, but you have to work together.” This is how Krčmář views interpersonal relationships in professional sports.

“Although biathlon is an individual sport, it is still partially a team result. Sometimes you help someone, and other times they help you.”

Sporting parents

Krčmář literally has sports in his blood. His father competed in biathlon and even participated in the Olympic Games in Lillehammer. However, that was during the breakup of Czechoslovakia – and he represented Slovakia.

“At that time, they were accused of sabotaging as Czechs, and he had to leave the national team.”

A sporting career cut short by political pressure. A bitter story from a time when borders between states were just being established.

His mother played volleyball.

“From a young age, I was guided towards sports in various ways.”

It’s not just about genes or tradition – it’s about the environment, values, and what is instilled at home from childhood. Krčmář inherited his sporting instinct but fulfilled it with his own will.

Own family and compromises

Michal is now a father and husband. And this connection with top sports is not without its friction.

“My family and I enjoy the nice moments. But when you have to figure out how to combine it, it falls on your wife’s shoulders,” he says openly.

When he comes home, he tries to give his children 100 percent. But after a hard workout, his energy is lacking, and his patience is not what it should be.

“I try to tame them, but I usually don’t succeed. It’s not easy, but I definitely wouldn’t change it.”

The decision to continue my racing career also brought new rules.

“I had to learn to say no.”

The priorities are clear: to devote himself to his family and to train 100%, no compromise solutions.

“What I don’t train for, I don’t have.”

Sport is merciful only to those who respect it.

Twenty, thirty seconds before the start. Dozens of competitors around, pounding their chests, showing off their strength.

“You try not to notice them. They’re pounding their chests, trying to signal that they’re alpha males.”

And then a shot rings out – and it’s just you and the track.

“In these tense moments, you can start to doubt yourself.”

But Krčmář knows how to silence this inner voice: precisely with the certainty of the work done.

“In these moments, I know I’ve done my best.”

That’s Michal Krčmář’s racing philosophy.

Childhood memories

The youth spent in Vejsplachá – the place where the aquapark stands today – has an unmistakable flavor for Krčmář. They played something like softball there with coach Suk; everyone wanted to play the whole training session, but then they had to run again. And after training, they would send marbles in the snow for two hours. No sophisticated methodology, no scientific training plans. Just the boys, the snow and the joy of movement.

It is this foundation – a sincere love for sport, not for medals – that keeps him going even today, when he could have quit long ago.

Why continue?

A question that every athlete asks himself in his mature years. Krčmář’s answer is surprisingly unostentatious.

“In recent years, it’s not based only on results, but on a feeling. I want to push myself, or improve some skill of mine. As long as I feel that I have it in me, I think it makes sense to continue.”

No pathetic talk about Olympic dreams. Just a quiet, honest desire to be better than yesterday.

And then there’s one more thing that Michal Krčmář sincerely believes in.

“You have a huge advantage in sports. Who at work can go lie down after lunch?” he adds with a smile that he won’t do this again for the rest of his life after his career ends.

As long as he can, he sends his brother-in-law provocative photos from his afternoon siesta with the comment: “What are you doing?”

Also Read: Czech biathlon teams for season 2026/2027

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