picture sharing test

this is bodhi enjoying our pond and this app might be a great way to microblog!

Good Luck, Kristen!

One of my dearest friends I've never met, Kristen Fehrenbach, is opening a restaurant in Vermont. From everything I have seen, it looks amazing. The design is incredible. Her food, I've heard, is unreal. The journey from concept to opening must have been arduous, the journey forward will be fantastic and difficult and exciting. Maybe she'll blog about it? ;)

More details to come, if you are in Vermont don't miss this opportunity! And bring back a to-go box for me!

The stars are aligning. Kristen, I'm so proud of you and excited! Go, baby, go!!

The unveiling of the new sign.

Schedule your massage with Kate at Katehowemassage.com

Yeah, ski season is over, my body is strong and healed up from surgery, and I am excited to get back to work making your body feel the best that it can!

I have a new interim office on Cemetery Lane until the end of June, visit me there, or come see me at 02 Aspen on Main St.

Now accepting Credit Cards!  For more information, visit katehowemassage.com

I look forward to helping you relax, recover and heal!

Chaos, Entropy, a messy house, a to do list, and a cup of coffee amidst the chaos.

(Apologies, Blogger's photo editor is making me crazy. The photos are all scrunched in together, and its going up like this for now.)

After three weeks on the road, I'm home again for a good long stretch. There's lots of things to share about adventures had, and friends made, and lessons learned, and growth, and dreaming, so up on the top of my list is "write blog posts". I have a list of one word reminders for them, they look like this:

the aftermath
contentment and concern
worth and worthiness with the goal
the next four years
ask about phil
finish
Bodhi's walk
run at the thing you fear
bikram community
did that just happen
POC OBX
beginners mind
bliss in the water

I usually have a list like this that has ten or twelve topics on it, and what I want to write about usually comes out in Savassana, or during a really challenging yoga pose, or while I'm driving or walking. Hardly ever just before I fall asleep anymore, thank goodness.

I have to stop myself from writing in my head, and just write the one word down so I don't forget the topic, that word works kind of like a cork in the writing stream, and the thought stays dammed up behind it until I get to my computer and pull the cork out.

Most of the time the post is still there, waiting to be written, and sometimes, I miss the window of emotional connection to what I wanted to share and the bliss of the lesson is lost, so the writing is flat. When that happens, I'm out of balance, I've forgotten that writing in a timely manner is important, I've over balanced something else to the detriment of remembering and sharing something I learned on my journey.

Ski stuff, kite stuff, beach stuff, winter stuff, bike stuff, the seasons are crossing over, the travel has come to an end and things are really really messy.

Most times I just let those go, sometimes, I force the concept out anyway and wish it held the impetus of the moment in the writing.

Now that I'm back home, I have about six weeks before biking season starts, and I have thoughts and fears and opportunities in these six precious weeks. I have a loose plan, which includes things like:

Spend lots of time with the kids.
Check on Independence Pass ski possibilities before we lose all the snow
Stay in shape
Maybe get in better shape
mail flyn's apron
pick up Kurt's
get bike tuned
get ass on bike
check into Crossfit situation, make a decision and a commitment
Grocery shop, relearn how to cook
Unearth bikes and massage stuff
redo massage website
sort stow and put up ski stuff
look into race camp (portillio, hood, cost?)
write Bikram scholarship
read the seven books I've been putting off
apply for kids camps scholarships
Finish second edit of novel
Finish screen play
Book proposals
write out aps concepts, find developers
ed materials compilation and workbook
taxes
(funny those two things come after each other in my head)
fly the trainer kite with the kids
get Bodhi in skate camp
get computer running well again
hang up hammock
write thank yous
tag photos
clean house top to bottom, sort all crap and throw tons of shit out

I don't really feel like I "can" do any of those things until I do the last one.

But the truth is, I'd just rather not do any of those things when I am in a messy environment with the weight of all I've been putting off hanging over my head. Cant and don't want to are two very different things.

The trick is to get into a head space where you can take the wins for the few things you HAVE gotten done, feel the intention for the next thing you will do, and be grateful for the work you are currently doing. Sometimes it will be a 12 hour marathon push. Sometimes it will be ticking shit off the list so you can feel like you are getting things done.

I hate writing in a messy house, with other pressing concerns all around me, which brings me to the icky list:

deal with student loans
deal with medical case
deal with other medical case
credit
taxes
mail
bills
budget

And suddenly, its too much.

My house is a mess, my bedroom is a mess, my desk is a mess, my kid's' room is a mess, and I can't get point by point through everything I need to do until I get a handle on how out of control everything feels and how overwhelming the piles are.

HOWEVER.

I have learned a trick to pull me through this situation. Because if I had my druthers, I'd do this in a certain order. I'd put everything on hold and spend two weeks cleaning and organizing my house (taking time off after school for the boys), then I'd go grocery shopping and get the food situation under control, then I'd get my exercise schedule plugged in, then I'd go down my list of writing projects and everything would be neat and tidy.

I could say, "There, that's done. Now I can do this." But if I do that, I will miss opportunity to write, to read, to play, to exercise, to love, to connect. And that is what life is about, not how tidy my desk is while I'm writing at it.

Not as bad as it has been, there is too much stuff, its time for a purge. That process is a full time commitment for about four days all day. How do we look forward to this?

Would I prefer it to be all neat and perfect? Sure. I can get a lot done faster when my environment is conducive to creativity. I walk around in a clean and tidy house with a sense of bliss. But if I wait to write until everything is in its place, I'm going to miss the boat on something. Like Ethan's new lego creation or Bodhi's new stop motion animation movie. Or laying on the floor drawing. Or going to yoga and feeling my body and my intention for it and allowing the sorting of my concept for the next four years to float through my tissues before I make a plan.

And if I'm willing to chunk it out, knowing that right now, I'm a bit behind, but these six weeks are a gift, at the end of them, I'll probably have a pretty clean house and a couple of projects under my belt. Finding gratitude in the work is the tricky part. Because its easy to flip under the line and see all you haven't done, rather than being filled and thrilled by whatever you are getting done.

So I try to look at what I can accomplish without seeing the potential consequences in the piles that are overwhelming to look at. If I look at my bedroom I'm going to either get depressed that things are so messy, or I'm going to stop everything else to get that done. And stopping everything else might be the thing to do, but it can also be a detriment. I may get my room clean and organized, but I've only been home for two days, and I would miss the opportunity to play with and reconnect to my kids because I can't get over how messy my suitcase is.

If I'm gonna do a big four day project, it should be one that has holes for yoga while the kids are at school, and may b,  and maybe it shouldn't start for another four days or so, until I've been home for a bit.

SO. Deep breath. It is appropriate that things are in chaos, because I've been traveling between snow and beach for three weeks, so everything is out. It is also appropriate that things are in chaos because one season is ending and another is beginning, and in the natural order of ending one thing and beginning another, there is a messy bit where everything overlaps.

The trees are budding. The snow is melting. Its muddy, there are leaf bud casings all over the lawn, which is trying to be tidy, but there's still winter stuff around. The nature of change is messy. The bliss in change is that things are changing, new opportunities and new life is beginning. Float along and pick up some bud casings, but don't let the fact that they are falling and making the lawn messy stop you from doing somersaults with your kids. Its a tough balance, allowing the chaos of change, embracing and living within it, and working towards the order you crave.

My desk looks like this... its months of mail, bills, writing, ideas, projects. There is order in the chaos to some extent, but its not pleasant to sit next to with it yelling at me. Its not nice to look at, either.

I spent today "chunking" projects. The trick here is not to stop moving until you get to a place where you feel like you are coming through the other side. (That means this thing, then the next thing. The next thing might be 20 minutes with a book.)

If you think of it only as tidying, you will get sucked into the "This must be perfect before I can do that" mentality that leads to paralysis.

Its also hard if you live with other people because one pile makes people leave other things around it. (Try it. Leave a coffee cup in a clean sink and come back three hours later. All the other dirty dishes in the house will have migrated to visit with their nasty friends. Its a dirty dish convention.) In my house, the push through the chaos is recognized as a quarterly "mom tidal wave" when stuff gets cleaned up by god! And the kids and Tom pitch in really well, but it took some honest conversation about not leaving your shit around just because you see stuff on the couch.

So after the kids were off to school today, I went to yoga, and then I read my book at the coffee shop, because reading these books is on my list for this six weeks, and then I picked up Kurt's new bike apron from Basalt and visited with him for a few minutes, and then came home to this mess. And I had to actively let go of wishing my house was clean as I stepped over my suitcase and the bags from the Snowbird trip and put my yoga stuff in the wash with some beach stuff.

It started snowing, so my plans to move my ski stuff to my car and then to the storage got cancelled, which made me want to stomp my feet, because I want to move things around, that has a bigger immediate affect, and I'm not emotionally ready to sit down and sort through the paper all over my desk.

So I moved bags of clothes out of the living room and into the bedroom. I hung up my wetsuit. I wrote some thank yous and realized that the next thing has to be my  scholarship application to Bikram Teacher Training because the deadline came and went while we were traveling. And that made me think about my sister and my fella and how we all fall prey to this chaos, and I knew I needed to sit down and blog before moving forward with anything else.

Blogging is discipline, it doesn't take that long, and while my chronology is getting pushed around (Id rather blog continuously in chronological order), I know that its easier for me to write a post about overcoming paralysis brought on by the big mess, and all the work ahead and the fact that I wish I could just spend this six weeks writing and playing with my kids when I'm in the middle of actively overcoming that obstacle, than it would be for me to put together a post on the most amazing vacation I've ever been on, the POC OBX trip.

So I sat down after I cleared some space, looked at the pile next to me, told it, "Your time is coming, paper, you are on my hit list." And knowing that I'm going to go hang up my laundry after I finish this post and then get through an inch of mail, I found a peaceful opening to sit down and write.

Its never gonna all be done. So take the time you need to do this part, too.

Its not pretty. Its not perfect. But it feels balanced, its all I have to give while staying sane and happy, and I'm not willing to go underwater with sadness just because I suck at filing, or there's lots of gear all over my bedroom because I'm lucky enough to lead an adventurous life that makes my bedroom sandy and the milk in the fridge sour.

This is the part of that life that includes "repack, cleaning, and sorting the detritus of an adventurous life" and I'm lucky to have this problem.

I think this is a big piece of it as well. I'm not ready to completely refocus on things that include judgement of character. I'm not angry at myself because I have a ton of stuff to do and things are messy. I'm grateful for new friends I've made, the depth of connection that Kurt and I found, new things learned, time in the sun, time walking in the sand, time skiing with friends, time testing my skill under pressure. If I turn my wrath against the mess, I lose the opportunity to nurture gratitude for all that just passed. And that would be a shame, because I made connections that deserve time for gratitude and reflection.

Once its clean and orderly, by the way, I'll do my best to keep it that way. But I hope and I know that there will be ski trips and bike trips and camping trips and projects that will throw a messy wrench into that prospect. And I'm grateful for them. And I'll welcome the entropy, and swim through the chaos, putting little pieces away until I come out the other side again.

National Alpine Tryouts

(Special Note: Photo uploader isn't working right now, so I have 19 great shots that go with this post... but we have to get in the car and drive back to Colorado now! I'll update the post with photos as soon as I can. Meanwhile, check Facebook for photos!)

Its over! Its the morning after and I didn't have to set an alarm and get up and motivate myself to do every thing I could to show my absolute best again today. Ahhhh sleeping in is goood....

The last four days have been so interesting. It was like a Bikram  yoga class, every single day it was hard. I expected it to be hard, but it was harder than I expected it to be.

Here is how it went.

The week of National Academy, which was the week before tryouts, Kurt and I were staying in the Cliff Lodge here at Snowbird. I was in Katie's group, (when Schanzy found out, he said, "Strong effort, Kate!" Which I thought was funny, and true.

I meant to go ski with someone who I don't always get to ski with, but I was trying to keep the upcoming tryouts in mind, and the group that was skiing the speed and terrain I wanted to play on ended up being Katie's group. Which turned out to be a great thing.

Since she's been the Teams manager for 12 years, and a member of the team for a couple of terms before that, she knows what it takes to try out, so she was able to help me carve out an appropriate space while still staying plugged into the group.

Our group was just awesome. A bunch of ripping skiers who would willingly go anywhere, but we didn't have to get there at a hundred miles an hour. The group was fun, funny and supportive, and I felt the amazing thing that is the PSIA family coalesce around me during the week.

Meanwhile, Kurt was diligently tuning both pairs of my skis to try to make them feel the same. I know so many people who have broken skis during the tryout only to end up on a backup ski that was not at all what they wanted to be on.

He came out and skied with our group and because we have the same boot sole length, we could switch skis back and forth.

Spinning out the legs on a jog up to Alta after a day in the mank training for the toughest turn.

My skiing felt good, strong, and getting stronger. We got about 15 inches of fresh winter snow that week, and I felt really good in it. I mean, who doesn't feel good in winter pow!?? I asked Katie what she thought, and she told me that she needed me to be consistent at that level. I understood that my best skiing on my best day was in the bottom of the box of what was acceptable (if I skied my best in every turn, they might be able to consider me).

The challenge was big, and I was up for it.

On Friday, I took the day off and wandered around Salt Lake. It was 80 degrees, I put on a sundress and flip flops and went to the bookstore. I got myself to yoga for the first time in a week.

I hadn't realized that I had building nerves until I stepped into the yoga studio, I stood there, fingers interlocked and fists under my chin, breathing in for a count of six while my head went back, and on the third breath, I was suddenly, abruptly and fully in my body.

The familiarity of the practice was intensely grounding, the yoga community is a powerful one, especially in the Bikram practice, its a bit strange actually. No matter what Bikram studio you go into, the 26 postures and 2 breathing are the same. So the ritual aspect becomes powerful. And after having a daily (sometimes twice daily) practice for a couple of years, when you stand in any studio anywhere in the world, with people around you doing the same thing, the familiarity is powerful.

Because the yoga helped me heal and strengthen and prepare my body, as well as hone my meditation skills, balance, focus, will, and determination, it was the perfect way to reset my body and mind for the upcoming challenge of tryouts.

Did I really think I had a chance?

Well, ya, kind of.

I felt that if I could ski the way I had been skiing during academy and continue improving all week, I would be teetering on the edge of hire-able around my feet. I wasn't worried about the teach, or the technical, or the interview or the presentations, I'm happy and comfortable in those situations, I love to play with the group, but I knew that the two days of task skiing had the potential to be my undoing.

Kurt and I got back on snow for the next two days, as it continued to heat up. The turn that worried me the most, that actually scared me, was the medium radius turn on the 35-40 degree slope in the slop. So that's what we worked on. Three hours each day, every time I lined up at the top of the Rasta chutes and he said, "Okay, go" I had this thrill of dread.

And I did it. It got better each time. My coaching cues were patience in the transition, patience in the fall line, retract to change. Set the turn up, don't rush and twist the ski. Stay with the ski. Don't start the movements with the upper body going into the turn. Don't rush. Patience, patience, patience.

We did it with no poles, and the snow was so gluey... this was my biggest fear, that we would get a bunch of new snow and it would heat up and turn to glue, and before we had a good freeze thaw cycle and get skied out, we'd have to ski in it.

But with Kurt's incredibly patient guidance, I did it. I brought the skis up to speed, I was quick but not rushed, I sliced them through the glue, he gave me the nod. That was it.

And then, it was Monday.

I skied with all of group 1 for the first two days. Inspirational skiing, YOU BET!

5:45 am time to get up. I put Richie Berger on my computer screen, Kurt got the oatmeal and coffee going, and I was down on the floor, warming up my back. Sets of Bridge, Cat Cow and Cobra over and over. Then onto the foam roller, where I rolled out my spine, coccyx to neck, then onto the sides, hips, shoulder blades, rolling and rolling to stretch and heat. Coffee's ready. Sip, start the next video, back onto the floor, roll out the front.

Thighs, it bands, shins, then rolling pushups into child's pose on the foam roller. Heat building. Finish coffee, starting to feel awake, tennis shoes on, out the door and down the hall to the stairwell, where I ran from the sixth floor to the basement and then back up. 20 squats on the bottom landing, 20 squats on the top, 90 second rest, run again, this time skip 2 steps.

The first trip back up the stairs sucked every morning. My legs burned and felt heavy and tired, but I knew that if I kept going they'd feel good by the middle of the second trip back up. Knowing that was one thing, believing it was another. Keep running.

I'd rather have the lactic burn and exhaustion here in the stairwell than on the hill. Get it out of the way. Keep running. As I was resting i would look at the tattoo on my left forearm. It says "Finish" which to me means every moment you have an opportunity to give more effort, emotionally, physically, your commitment to this goal you say you want is only really true if you work as hard as you can.

I smile and think of Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill V2. Kurt calls me Kiddo sometimes. She's a bad ass. She worked hard enough to punch her way out of a buried coffin. I can run up these stairs. (Don't tell me she's fictional, right now I'm busy trying to be inspired, thanks).

Back to the room, sweat has started, there's heat from the inside out, my back feels loose and good. I'm ready. And so is the oatmeal. Thank god for my friend Peter who made it possible for me to live in this condo this week. The food here in the restaurants is really abysmal, I had a stomach ache for most of academy. Being back on the organic home cooked food feels good, and Kurt is amazing, every morning there are fresh blue berries and raspberries, soaked almonds, flax seed meal and cinnamon waiting for me.

I fill myself a little past full, wanting to be sure I have energy for the day, and change into my gear. Its time. Kurt has the backup pair of skis and a backpack full of coconut water, jugs of water, mojo bars, ginger treats, red bull (just in case) hand warmers and the video camera.


Out the door we go, onto the snow, and I'm skiing down Chickadee to the tram dock and thinking, wow, this is it!!

I don't feel nervous, I'm just really really happy. Excited. Thrilled, actually. I have finally stopped asking myself if I belong in this group. It was the hardest thing to do.

The week I spent in Katie's group helped me tackle what had been my biggest emotional struggle for this whole season. I started working on it with Peter in Whistler, Kurt, Andy Docken, Schanzy, Megan and Josh Fogg helped me through it during the season, and the dregs of it, like sticky fingers, were still on me as I came to academy.

I'm so used to being the shittiest skier in the group, because I've put myself there for six years. I've been chasing down a group of skiers that are leagues above me, because I want to train right, to consistently see the images that are in the ball park. I watched Cindy break that line, change her skiing and live solidly in the group. I know it can be done.

I know it can be done by a woman.

And there were moments when I felt it. Andy told me a few times, Kate, that's good. My mountain, my obstacle was adding the words, "for Kate." to any compliment I got in training.

For instance, "That's good, Kate" I would change to "That's good (for) Kate."

I had to break that pattern, part of owning the changes I had made in my skiing, which were occasionally "in the box" was believing that I was skiing at that level and could do it consistently.

It does nothing to say "I believe it" if you don't actually, deeply, believe it.

So we did a lot of video. Not as much for diagnosing mechanical issues, because now I can feel them and self coach, but so I could see myself skiing and compare it to images that I knew were in the box of hire able skill.

And I saw it.

Now I had to own it, under pressure, in the toughest snow I've skied. When it counts. I wasn't nervous. I had nerves, which are good, but I wasn't nervous. But it was time to see, with pressure applied, when you have one run per task and no do overs, each turn scored, to see, could I own it?

The idea that I didn't belong in the group, that the group was tolerating me because I was good enough not to slow it down, that I am a novelty or an annoyance was gone. I had been invited to this event. I had brought my skiing up enough that I felt comfortable demonstrating in front of people I respect.

On Monday morning, I was comfortable in my skin, happy to have developed the skills that I have, and I was ready to show what I had. It would either be good enough to hire, or not.

We rode the pre-public 8am tram up to the top of Snowbird, clicked in, and took our warm up run. 42 candidates from all over the country poured down Regulator Johnson, the level of skiing was just awesomely inspiring. So many of them are friends, and I felt this incredible group energy. We are all wishing the best for each other.

There are only so many spots they can hire, and the level of talent on the hill was astounding. There were more women in this tryout than in previous ones, and while there are no incumbent spots for women, the competition is getting stiff. And that's a good thing. The more the bar goes up, the better the team is. The better the team is, the harder the membership has to work to become a piece of it. We all improve as the standard stays high.

My warm up run felt okay. The snow was firm, the grooming full of holes, ruts and chunder. But that's Snowbird in the spring. I had Kurt's voice in my head, there aren't that many coaching cues, really. Set the turn up. Patience. Don't twist to the edge. Tip then steer as needed. Level. Hands UP. And Dance on your Skis, as Weems says.

My heart was full of gratitude for the community that helped me get here, Weems, Squatty, Kurt, Peter, my mom... Nick McDonald was a selector, and he was one of my first PSIA clinicians a month after I started skiing. How amazing six years later to have him selecting at the National Tryout. I had made it.

We got to the top of regulator for our second run, the selectors spread out down the hill, Kurt was down there with them, camera pointed up, and it was game time.

"Be safe, ski in control, don't let it get away from you, no one get hurt" was a consistent theme all morning. I watched Jonathan Ballou go before me, he was getting after it on our first task and down he went. A fall. From one of the best, most athletic skiers on the hill. Suddenly, a tactic came back into my mind.

Ski conservatively. Better control than dynamics. Do not fall. Not because you won't get selected if you fall but because it will hurt. It will hurt your neck, falls during selection are historically really bad. They result in broken necks, arms, dislocated shoulders, torn up knees, hospital trips. 

This had not been in my mind at all leading up to it, I have finally healed and strengthened my body enough after surgery to feel strong. But suddenly the thought was in my mind that a bad wreck with this plate in my neck would be really painful. And while I have a high tolerance for pain, I really have never ever felt pain like that which has occurred while I'm healing from this surgery.

By the third task, I had missed the ski cut.

And I knew it. I was not skiing like Kate. I wasn't sure why. I wasn't nervous of the task, the environment, the selectors, my competitors. I wasn't nervous of falling. I was nervous of feeling pain if I did fall.

And it undid me.

I could feel Megan looking at me, and on the third chairlift she looked at me and put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Well, Kate, you should just be proud that you are here. I'm proud of you for just putting yourself on the line and giving it your best."

Shit.

That's not what you want to hear three hours into something you've been training for for six years.

No poles skiing in the deep mank in the book ends. 35 degree slope, fresh snow barely skied out, its hot out, now its thick monkey snot. This is the turn we were training for, this is the turn I proved to myself I could do.

Rogan asked Kurt to ski the line on his way to set up the camera, and, 40 pound pack on his back, he skied it beautifully. We could see the snow changing as he went down, and I knew, this was the task, the make or break, this is the one that is going to show if the mechanics are there in place or not.

And I know I can do it. I have to go fast enough to make the ski work. I have to stay with it when it changes. What if I guess wrong when it changes? This is the kind of run where people wreck and get hurt. A wreck at speed in this stuff is bad.

My first three turns were fine. I relaxed. Take your time in the transition. Stay in the fall line. I crossed where the snow changed. I moved inside. I got stuck on my inside ski, I moved back, now I'm on a ride, I'm not in control, I'm going where the ski wants, not where I want.

In my mind, NEW TASK: stay on your god damn feet. Steer it up the hill, lose speed that way, strong core. Three shitty turns and I'm back over my feet, but the run is over, and that's enough, I'm out of the running.

I know it as I ski to the group. But I'm not angry at myself, this snow is really, really tough. Tough enough that Robin Barnes has a bobble in it. Hafer struggles. Docken has a Double E, goes endo. But my skiing isn't dynamic enough for me to botch any tasks, I have to ski my best in every turn to be in contention with someone who can ski dynamically through all of it and takes a fall.

That night, Megan asks me what happened to my skiing. I have to think about it.

I realize I am afraid of how it will feel to fall on the plate in my neck. I got as far as I have gotten by being willing to fall. After all, that's why I got sponsored by POC in the first place. I needed the protection because I was falling so much. I fell so much the first two years of skiing that they nick named me "Lawn Dart".

And now, because if this metal plate, I was not willing to go down.

I meditated on that sitting in a tub full of Epsom salts.

I needed to be willing to go down if I was gonna save this. I had three days to prove I could ski. But what I really had to do was get all the way back to my best skiing on the first turn of the first task. And even that might not be enough to save it. I had to be willing to fall.

Tuesday morning. Warm up, coffee, run stairs, eat oatmeal, Kurt hands me skis, he's spent three hours turning them, they are perfect. He's not embarrassed to be by my side, to stand in my corner. he's willing to continue to work with me as though I'm in contention for the top spot. His dedication to me fuels me with a willingness to give it my all. He could have easily said, "She's not gonna win, why bother tuning?"

But he didn't. He made each pair of skis absolutely perfect every night. He loaded his pack and carried food, he encouraged me to sit, rest my legs, get in the shade, warm back up when I needed to. He saw me as I needed to see me and I could not give up even if I wanted to. Finish. Tram ride up for 8am tasks. Finish.

New task. I would improve my skiing every single run. I would find my turns by the end of this. I knew they couldn't hire me based on my skiing on the first day, so I let it go. I would show myself and them that inside there IS a skier that CAN make the cut. I texted Peter, he sent me incredibly inspirational texts back.

I was worried, if I didn't make it, would I lose my sponsorships, my readership, what would happen to my blog? What would happen to the people who have been there for me and helped me get there? Was I letting them down?

Kurt helped me through that. Back on track. We have always known it was unlikely that I could be a contender, let alone get hired. Yet here I was, on the snow, invited to participate and its time.

First task, better. Second task, even better. Transport to third task, feeling good, feeling happy, not feeling hard on myself, feeling some freedom. I crank it over, and I crash.

Hard. With a selector right behind me.

As I'm going down I think, oh god, if I don't hang onto this as long as I can, this will be a bad one. The way I am falling is not good. (I was in a big right footed GS sized turn heading around a corner.) I see a dead tree about 20 feet from me, the tangent to the arc I was on heads straight towards it. In that split second I realize while I'm falling I must hold the ski in the snow as long as I can or I will hit that tree at full force and it will be big time game over. As I hang on I realize the new trajectory is going to flip me over, I'm going to de-camber and high-side. And that's gonna hurt my neck.

I hold my head up and curl my stomach as the ski releases and I get sprung into the air. I am lucky enough to spin, my head bounces on the snow, but not as badly as it can be, I'm about 15 degrees off the line of the tree, and I'm okay.

Back on my feet, we head to the next pitch for the next set of drills.

Ive taken the fall, its a day like any other day on skis. Falling is part of it. I didn't die or hurt myself, and I'm in the game.

The skiing comes up.

It takes until the end of day 3 to find my turns again. And by day 4, when they are really just looking at four or five people to slot into the last two spots, I'm skiing like Kate again.

Over the course of those four days, we had indoor presentations and teaching segments, movement analysis and discussions. All of those were fun for me, I love doing them, and I thought they had gone well. We did a 30 minute behavioral interview which was fun and interesting.

I texted my mom and my sister, both of whom were planing to come out for announcements. I told them that there was no way that the selectors could consider me. I ski well, but not well enough consistently enough to be in contention for a spot on the national team. Not yet. I told them that they didn't need to spend the money, time and energy to come out.


Wednesday afternoon, Kurt and I were up in the hot tub. It was getting harder and harder to motivate myself to give everything I had in every turn. My commitment to myself had been to improve my skiing steadily through the event. But I was getting hard to run the stairs, to keep performance coming up when I knew I couldn't get hired.

I texted Peter. I'm not sure I can put my family through another four years of this. I'm not sure I can take resources away from Ethan and Bodhi, the money I would spend going to race camp and going South to teach and the time I have to spend in the Crossfit gym and in yoga while they are on their way to ages 12 and 14 is huge. I'm not sure my body can take it. I may be staring at the end of my dream. Knowing that makes it hard to run up and down those stairs and make this turn better than that one.

My mom, who is not a fan of tattoos, texted me back. "Of course I am coming. You have one job right now. Finish."

Kurt looks at me, and says, you have a choice, you can quit, or you can finish.

Peter tells me, its not about the financial support. Its about getting it done. He keeps my flicker of hope alive, Kurt goes back to the room and tunes my skis. I have an obligation to myself, to my kids, to my journey to give it all I have. To and through and across the finish line. Finish strong.

I want so badly to warn my readers and sponsors, who are posting "good luck!" and rooting for me, hey guys, I'm not gonna make it! Don't get too excited!

But I don't want the selectors to read that I know that I'm not getting selected. My job is to focus and to follow my new commitment. My finish line is to make each turn better than the last, to keep performance coming up regardless.

I let go of outcome and I think of Bikram yoga. I think of the focus and dedication in each posture and how you must let go of the last moment to perform well in this moment.

And the last two days of tryouts, although difficult to retool and rededicate every morning, become fun. The teaching is my favorite. The camaraderie in the group is awesome. My job now is to support my friends who are in contention. I shift energy to supporting Heidi and Matty. I want them to know how well they are doing. How inspirational their skiing is. That they are getting it done.

Suddenly, its over, we are done. The final teach is finished, the hugs on the middle of the mountain are awesome, and I realize I did it. I finished happy, satisfied, in one piece and I gave it everything I had. I overcame my mental obstacle and learned some great lessons.

As we ski down to the bottom, Kurt asks me if I'm tired, and about ten turns later, it hits me. Yup, I'm exhausted. We stop to take a break and he asks me what my journey was like. How do I feel, now that I've gone through it?

I think back to Bridger Bowl, to the ridiculous and audacious statement I made when i started writing, "Hey, i want to be on the National Team one day". I had no idea what I was saying. I had no idea how hard it would be to get my feet to the ridiculous level of consistency and athleticism. 

I think about all the gifts I've gotten along this journey.

The lessons I've learned.

One of the biggest gifts was one of the hardest lessons. Along the way, I got a letter. A piece of hate mail. A truly venomous, angry letter that made me feel horrible about myself, my goal, my journey, the fact that I had shared it. This person wrote that I was a terrible mother, a terrible person. They said some of the harshest things I've ever heard, they made remarks about the fact that Kurt and I were together, and I was devastated.

During that time, Kurt, Weems and Schanzy, as well as my sister, helped me with some pretty tough love. What part of this can you own, Kate? Even if nothing in the letter is true or accurate, why is the perception out there?

I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to own any of it. None of the accusations were true, but the fact that this person, and apparently 20 of his friends felt this way was in some way something I would have to own in order to move forward.

I wrote him a thank you note.

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, because it had to come from an authentic place. I had to find a way to feel grateful that this person had brought to my attention the incredibly negative perception that existed in this group of people. And I grew because of it. I had to take it as a lesson.

And then, later, I found out who it was. And ever since then, I've wished I could run into him at an Academy or some other event and sit down and say, hey, can we talk about what happened? But I haven't run into him since. And so I had to put it down and walk away from it.

But as i looked back on the journey, opportunities for more humility kept presenting themselves. The journey that Kurt and I took, the journey of our relationship was integrally tied to my journey to the tryouts. He forced me to stand on my own two feet. I always thought I was looking for a coach who would be as dedicated as I was so that I could perform fueled by their dedication to me.

Kurt taught me that what I really was looking for was someone who could teach me that that coach was myself. 

I feel like I've been through so many hard lessons in life on my own that I was looking for a soft place to land. But you can't look for softness if you are trying to compete at the highest level. At the end of the day, you only have yourself. On the hill, no matter who helped get you there, it finally comes down to you. Your internal structure, your ability to call up your will and your power and your touch and your life and your belief and to do it from and for you.

Kurt made me a better me, there were so many times I had to go train on my own, there were so many times I wanted the answer and he wouldn't give it to me, there were so many times that I was relaxing as I got off the chair and he would look at me and say, don't stand on your skis like that.

I thought, when I got here, that because I had learned to go run by myself, for myself, to go to yoga by myself, for myself, to not eat sugar by myself for myself, without someone pushing me, that at the tryout, I would stand on my own. And ultimately, I had to, at the top of every run. And I was comfortable doing that, because what Kurt had given me was depth of comfort in my own ability to be my own coach.

But the miracle, ultimately, was that I didn't have to do the rest of it by myself. He was there, suddenly and completely, making sure I had taken my supplements, eaten well, was re-hydrating, sleeping well. His quiet, beautiful, gentle presence was all around me, ready, while I stood on my own two feet. He gave me the gift of a better me.

That afternoon, my mom and my sister and my best girlfriend walked in the door. They knew I couldn't get selected, but here they were.

We went downstairs and sat in the room full of anticipation as they announced the team. It was hard to hear the announcements, people who I really love and admire, who have what it takes, had not made it. Oher people who I love and admire had. Heidi and Matty and Ballou had.

My mom and my sister got to meet my mentors and the people who drive this industry forward, who dedicate themselves completely and get very little in return.

I got my feedback, they really liked my presentation, teaching, ma, and I did really well in those. It was the skiing. It seems that there may be some possibilities for working with PSIA in the next four years with those strengths of presenting and speaking.

Here was the feedback: Ski. Ski ski ski ski and please come back in four years.

I'm not sure how in the world I will pull it off financially, how I will pull it off while giving my boys what they want, need and deserve, but guess what?

We'll figure out a way.

2016, here we come.

Dear Ethan and Bodhi

Thank you for being on my team. I know its hard when your mom is gone a lot, and I think it is amazing that my little men at 8 and 10 greet me with "How is the training going? Did you learn a lot?" and see me out the door with some tears, but a "Good Luck Mom!" when I leave.

Its really hard for me to be away from you as well, you are such miracles to me, and playing with you and watching you become your own amazing people is inspiring every day to me.

I love to come home and see your creations, your stories, the games you've created, and to hear how karate and theater and art is going. I'm so grateful to your dad for being there through all the homework headaches, and I'm really proud of you guys for working so hard in school. Its been really cool to get to pull you out of school because your grades are good enough that we can play together when it doesn't happen to be the weekend. That takes special kids with dedication and a good measure of support from Poppa Tom. 

I wish you guys could be here this week, we have enough room in the condo for you and dad, and you could be skiing in the sunshine while the tryout is going on. But while we are doing so much better this year, we couldn't get you three here this week.

So I can't wait to see you when I get home, and I'm really looking forward to riding bikes all summer long in Snowmass with you and watching Bodhi in the skate park.

I want to be the best mom I can be, and the best Kate I can be for you. I hope that when all this is over, the good parts shine through the tough parts, and that we can laugh over the hard bits (remember sitting on the four square feet of the carpet I vacuumed in the house I was cleaning while you played with your legos so we could buy groceries?), and be grateful for the good bits, (remember when you guys hiked the bowl and made yourselves proud? and built the Lego Mindstorm? And learned to slackline?)

I can't wait to be there for you as you tackle the tough stuff in your life, the mountains you will have to climb, in school, in love, and in work. I hope whatever path you choose, it is one that inspires you and fills you and makes you proud and happy and content. And I can't wait to be there along the way for you the way you have for me.

I miss you guys!!

National Team Selection Update #2

I am sitting here listening to Kurt scrape the wax off the skis in the next room, and I can hear him laughing out loud at some funny movie he's watching.

My belly is full from tomatoes and mozzarella, and I'm just flipping through my email before I go to bed. Because in the morning, I'm going to get up and go ride an 8am tram to the top of Snowbird with 45 of the best ski instructors in the country and we are going get down to business.

In my email, I am finding these little gems from my friends and family and mentors and teachers and benefactors and I am just absolutely humbled. And grateful. We made it, you guys!

Six years later, I'm sitting here. I wondered for so many years what this would be like, what the night before would feel like, where I would be, where I would be sleeping, where would my kids be, where would my mom be, how would I have my skis in shape, where would my skiing be, would I even be here?

Would I be scared, or nervous? Would I feel in over my head, or intimidated?

I just feel grateful, honestly. (Okay, and a bit teary and weepy and kind of stunned.) I started writing this blog over 1400 days ago because I wanted to see what it took. Could an ordinary person with an ordinary amount of fitness and an ordinary family with an ordinary amount of funding do something like this?

And the answer is no.

But an ordinary person with the help and love and support and willingness to be tough and direct and hard and honest of hundreds of people can.

So thank you guys. We did it. I am so grateful to everyone who participated in my journey, the hard parts, the scary parts, the loving parts, the growth and all the rest.

The rest is gravy, but I'll make it as tasty as I can, I promise.

Love to you all,
Kate

National Alpine Team Selection Update (this might be the only one...)

So we are sitting on the chairlift this afternoon, and my nerves hit for the first time. They were good nerves, a bit of anxious excitement, but its the first I've felt them. I thought, Oh, There you are!

I was very glad to have gone to academy, getting my feet all over the mountain for a week let me take yesterday off and only ski for two or three hours today and feel fine about it.

Tomorrow, we head out in the morning on to the refrozen stuff and we'll be done by noon at the latest. Last rest day before selection begins tomorrow night at 6pm with a general meeting.

That's where we will get our schedule for the week, including the day and time of our indoor presentations.

Kurt tuning both pairs of 2012-12 Blizzard Magnum Ti 8.0 again.

Today, I did not ski my best. And I thought, OH GOOD! Its funny, on the last day of Academy, I was a bit worried, I had felt my skiing coming up and coalescing all week, and I looked at Kurt and said, "Man, I hope it doesn't stay like this, I need it to fall apart a little bit for a day or two so it can begin a climb again through the selection."

He smiled. "It either will or it won't. Just keep trying the right way." And that's why I'm so grateful for him. 

Feeling the nerves and the dip in performance before the day is important to me, its part of the procedure, but it doesn't always happen in time. I try to manage it well, its pretty reliably brought on my the approaching deadline or the change in routine, but sometimes I hold it off on purpose. It shows up anyway.

Today, I felt it coming, and I welcomed it, like having a dress rehearsal with a couple of hiccoughs in it. The audience usually doesn't notice, but the cast and crew kind of freak out. We open TOMORROW! How could you have flubbed that line? Flown that piece of scenery late?

But there is something in that magical thinking that works, a dirty dress rehearsal makes for a beautiful opening night. You've worked out the kinks.

And that's not to say it was bad today, it was acceptable, just not shining. It had some kinks. It was a working day. Notes still happen, tweaks still happen, focus still happens. Its not performance mode yet. Its still work mode, even though the audience is there. 

We spent this afternoon writing out the coaching cues that work best for me into my iPhone and making sure that each thing has its cue, and that the cue is succinct and understandable.

While we were on the chair, I realized that this is my least favorite part of the process, (and therefore in my next journey I will work on making it my favorite part of the process) the waiting two days before a change.

It was the same before we traveled here. I felt one part of my journey ending, the training for the goal that was a long way out. It was time to get the oil changed and the brakes checked and the travel confirmations made and the bowl hiked with Bodhi, but it wasn't time to pack yet, and it wasn't really time to leave yet.

It was an out of sorts time, where I wanted to stay in my routine, but it was hard because I knew it was ending because we were leaving soon. There is this strange inertia of impending change that pulls at you. So I looked at my tattoo in the mirror. (that's another post) and I kept going as best I could.

And then we were on the road, which can be fun, and we were in this state of flux for about 48 hours, when things settled down, and the routine of the Snowbird hotel started to make sense.

Yesterday, the change was coming again, but I took a full rest day and went exploring in Salt Lake, and went to the Bikram studio in Sandy, UT, which was great, suddenly, I'm in this hot room and I'm breathing in and out and sweating all over the place and I feel connected to my routine at home, I feel my training and my effort and my ease and it feels right and good.

Room to live!

Today, I hadn't been on the snow in a full day, and I felt unplugged. The candidates started arriving a few days ago, and we've all been running into each other. Its amazing to see everyone, and its interesting to feel the intensity already. I'm so grateful for the gentle, even space that Kurt and I have carved out. It feels familiar, it feels whole and it has depth in training, in eating, in moving through the day.

We packed our hotel room up and got on the snow, where I floated around in my body a little, spotting packs of candidates skiing together all around some of the runs where tasks are traditionally set. I challenged myself and practiced good decision making, pulling up the coaching cues while feeling the slightly foggy space of nerves. It was good training.

It was about 65 degrees on the Little Cloud lift, and, sweating, we headed in to grab our yoga stuff and get back down to the studio in Sandy. Wham, back in my body, breathe in, breathe out, 26 postures, two breathing, the nerves go completely away, the body loosens up, I am not thinking about skiing because I'm trying to keep my balance in this freakin' hot room on one leg.

Grounded, we head out to some sub par discount sushi in Sandy (bleh), and then head over to Whole Foods to buy provisions for the week, where we run into a couple of smiling candidates with the same idea.

Grocery bags full of heirloom tomatoes, almonds, and oatmeal fixings, (minus blueberries, couldn't find them...) we head back up to the hotel and see our condo for the first time.

Clouds part, angels weep, we have a full kitchen, a living room, a hot tub, we have space to tune and write and unpack. Its homey, its big enough, and by midnight, we are settled in, SNL on in one room and blogging in the other.

I feel right on track, dirty dress rehearsal happened before Go Time, I was widened, with diaphanous focus today, and now, beginning to re-narrow, ease being the signal that I'm floating back down into my body, into my feet, into the joy that is skiing!

Cant wait to get out there tomorrow and make the final adjustments, and then... get started!

2012 National Academy Day 2

Well, as usual, its been a great adventure already, and we are only on day 2. I have to say that the PSIA National Academy is really one of the most fun gatherings I've ever done. Its SO well put together, the value is great, and the education is amazing. Last night, Rob Sogard gave a talk on Interski and the future of education from the teams perspective, and tonight, US Ski Team coach Ron Kipp gave a talk on the Science of Skiing, which was just awesome.

Katie Ertl gets the Excellence in Education award from PSIA at the first night banquet, along with Linda Crockett and Dave Merriam.

I'm skiing in Katie's group, which is silly, because, well, I work with her, but I don't get to ski with her very much, and she's just awesome to ski with! She is so easy and light, yet so solid and aggressive on her skis, she's inspirational to watch.

Susan and Catherine ready to RIP!

The group is awesome, super willing to ski ANYWHERE, and one of our group members, Jeff, is a local, so we are hiking and traversing and skiing all over the place. The nice thing is that we are not going a bazillion miles an hour, so I'm getting my feet all over the mountain but not skiing myself into the ground, which is great.

Mineral Basin full of winter snow

So far, my afternoon electives have been hot tubbing, napping, and taking a quick run up to Alta. I'm getting yoga in on the floor in the corner during the indoor presentations, but haven't got to class yet.

Dropping in at the end of the Knucklehead Traverse

The snow is amazing, the first day it was thick, about 13" of fresh snow over partial refreeze, not a lot of bumps, and its cold, about 31 degrees. The visibility was really rough, and everyone was SUPER excited to jump into the deep snow.

The groups sorted themselves out and we made our way into Mineral Basin, where the bookends were in good shape.

Jeff leads us on endless adventures

The next morning, Jeff took us on an adventure out the Knucklehead traverse and into the Baldy chutes. I'm so impressed with the high level of skiing in the group, and the fact that the group is really interested in tweaking their skiing, and talking about teaching concepts while we adventure everywhere.

I can't wait to see what the next few days brings!

Aspen Academy Training news Volume 1, Issue 6

Snowbird, here we come!

Well, its finally here. We are packing to go to Snowbird tomorrow. I have been writing a lot, but I haven't been posting it because one of the lessons that I have learned is that while transparency is good, its perhaps not wise to lay it all out there as we get closer. I'm learning so much about my own learning process, and I have just re affirmed that this part, the part when the time crunch is here and every kernel of understanding is key is FUN, my most favorite. I love the puzzle of continuing to push when the line gets close. I love the puzzle of staying on track and burrowing in further, I love to let go and snap my brain like a rubber band into the fun of slush skiing after concentrating all day, and I can not wait to go play in Snowbird!

The last three weeks of training have been awesomely intense, and I'm beholden to Kurt, John Fayhee, Reilly McGlashon and especially Andrew Wilson for the incredible coaching and patience with me, and the incredible dedication of their time, and to Jason Clossic, Peter C., and Cindy Lou for sticking with me, skiing with me, filming me and everyone else. And of course, Megan Harvey for freaking me out whenever possible. (She reminds me of Kato in Pink Panther.)

Its been so fun to train with the other candidates who are going from Aspen, I'm honored to be a part of the group, and I'm excited to travel to the tryouts with this great group of people who I really respect: Josh Fogg, Schanzy, Andy Docken, Jonathan Ballou, and Kevin Jordan.

And now, its time. Its different than the first time I drove to National Academy six years ago, in my busted up Bronco with one pair of AT skis and my one pair of ski pants with duct tape on them in a trash bag. (I'm not kidding.)

I wondered if I'd ever get to a place where I had my shit together in a way that felt real, consistent, efficient and professional. Hey. This year, I registered for academy in advance. I have gas money. My oil is changed. My freakin' eyebrows are waxed. My skis are tuned. (note the order of concern here...) My locker is cleaned out, my uniform returned, my clothes are in a piece of luggage with wheels that isn't held together with tape. I have a hot bag thanks to Fuxi Racing, and I feel, well, like a pro. Like the pro I wanted to become. Inspired by all those on that list up there above me. And I'm showing up in a car that runs. Again. Reliably.

Its been six years of lessons learned, and I'm in love with the journey. I can't wait to roll out of here tomorrow, its happened, my kids are 8 and 10, I am 40, I'm healthy, happy, recovered from my surgery, from all the other curve balls that have come my way this year. I've found a community of people who are in it with me, as I'm in it with them, and I'm so very grateful for all I've learned along the way.

The rest is gravy, baby.

Promise to post more from Snowbird. See ya on the flip side!

Kate

Through the bottle neck of frustration and into understanding.

This is my favorite part. The deadline is near, the training is intense. The opportunities for lessons learned are everywhere. The vehicle to those lessons is the skiing. But the lessons learned are all round the skiing.

I have been working on something specific, trying to make a change in my skiing that is appantly really hard for me to make. It's been three months of work to try to deepen my understanding.

I really enjoy this part of the learning process, and I was lucky enough to have about three weeks of dedicated training in which to diagnose the problem, train towards changing the movement, check my understanding, refocus my diagnosis, refine the movement. This meant drilling at slow speeds on groomed easy runs, which for me is the fun part! Yay!

This movement pattern is important, fundamental, and I didn't want to take it off piste or in the bumps until I had made, and kept to some extent, this change in my skiing. I kept bumping into the opportunity to see if I could stick with it.

So the fun part for me is learning to enjoy the bottleneck. When the movement isnt changing. Or when ive felt the change, but I can't keep it for some reason. It's like walking into a wall over and over again. And you want the change, and you've put the time in, and you've been so disciplined about sticking with no other thought in your skiing other than this one singular piece.

You have digested it, turned it over and inside out, broken it down into pieces and put it back into its whole again. And you can't own it. And you have a choice. You can say, screw it, this is frustrating, I need to blow out the cobwebs, or I'm going home, or I want to play in the bumps. Or, you can find a creative way to back off but stay with the thought.

We are here to make this change. So I begin to look for the thrill in the idea of pushing though. All the emotional stuff comes up. I suck, I've gotten as far as i will get. I don't get it. I may never get it. And we go out and drill again. I have learned, over time, to observe these emotions with curiosity rather than with judgement. I know when I hear those voices that are telling me to back off that I am getting close. That becoming comfortable with that place where I am SUCKING at this is the place where the learning takes place, it's the place where's the beginners mind is. It's a scary freakin place!

And it's a place that not a lot of people understand. "Why do you take this so seriously, Howe?" I hear this a lot. "you need to just go out and ski. Stop thinking."

The thing is, that doesn't really work for me. I like this part! I don't have a problem not focusing, thats the easy part. I don't have a problem going out for a fun run. But nurturing the discipline to problem solve my way through the bottleneck of frustration leads to the most wonderful openings and deepenings.

There is bliss on the other side of frustration. And feeling the frustration as an opportunity to grow even more specific and disciplined is where the lesson lies for me this time.

We had to go back days in a row before we could pick up where we left off. But my understanding changed, and my skiing changed. And I skied it for another three days, just to be sure that I got it, from all sides, and then, oh man, I took it off piste. I had my fun runs. And it was like eating desert.

Delicious.

Your mind is a rubber band.

I had a bit of an epiphany last night as I was laying in bed falling asleep. This post is about riding the emotional roller coaster. I believe to some extent that that roller coaster is not only good, but necessary. I also believe that we tend to do one of two things: indulge in it or ignore it all together, neither of which is healthy.

In yoga, Bikram particularly, we learn that our bodies are different every day, and that that is okay. More than okay, that is the nature of the body. If we come to class expecting to get ahead of where we were yesterday every single time, we will meet resistance, suffer emotional disappointment, and be further away from our ability to improve and get to our "ultimate goal" (although yoga continually evolves, so there really should be no stopping point. The depth is bottomless.)

This is the irony of western mindset in this practice. To improve, part of your job is to give 100% effort at your place of benefit on that particular day. If you insist on pushing further you may either hurt yourself or impede your progress by over stretching, causing the body to guard, tear, or tighten the next day.

I believe our minds are like that, as well. We have a plan for how we would like our days in general to go, emotionally. Ideally, we'd like to be continually improving in our ability to move though our day with equanimity, handling whatever comes up, and staying in a mental place that allows us to constantly improve our performance at whatever we are endeavoring to do, whether that's writing, balancing a budget, leveraging a buyout or skiing bumps.

But just like our bodies will tighten to loosen in response to our day, our stimulus and our environment, and, over a time, improve in the overall if we are disciplined enough to meet the body where it needs to be met every single time, and then at that place give 100% effort but no more, so do our minds.

The mind needs to have space to run the emotional gamut. And sometimes, we need to step back and watch as emotions run through it. Compassion for that place is not capitulation. Compassion for that place is meeting the mind where it needs to be met so it can process the stresses and inputs of the day. You may have plans for how you, your body, your mind, your wants and your plans should move forward (next run we will be focused, centered, and non judgmental so we can ski better), but if the mind has not caught up to that place because it is still filtering the input from a cumulative effect of hard training and feedback over the course of five days or so, you may not have the run you want, expect and plan to have.

The mind may need to work through self doubt, judgement and quantitative properties, whether you want it to or not. How you allow it to do this will dictate how fast you come back to a place of calm. Letting the mind express those thoughts, observing them, and then letting them pass through you like water through a sieve, or coming up with alternative conversation to the doubt you are hearing about your ability to perform, or your worth, or the worth of your endeavor will help Refocus the mind on the task at hand.

Trying to deny the mind this process would be like sitting on an over stuffed suitcase to get it to close. Eventually, the pressure inside will be too much for the latch, and the whole thing will fail. Now you have a big new mess to clean up and you need a whole new suitcase, you have ruined this one.

Working through this place is important and difficult, because we all wish we didn't have to be here. We all wish we could avoid conflict, especially internal conflict. We are eager to get back to that place where we felt control, and not eager to look in the mirror and watch what ever needs to happen, happen.

I'm talking about taking a moment to let your mind process and catch up, meeting your mind where it needs to be met, with compassion and patience. Observing the process with curiosity while you continue to work. Mindfully changing up the rhythm of the day to ease rather than add to the stress, while still asking the mind to perform.

Giving up and walking away isn't the solution. But a coffee break and some laughter with a friend might be. Allowing yourself to go in to full blown crisis may not be helpful. Training yourself to function while processing is a good thing, it gives depth to discipline. But do it with compassion.

Having a good, stout cry for a few minutes in private can be relieving. Recognizing when you are in over your head and you need advice or a good stout cry on the shoulder of a friend is beneficial as well. Recognizing when you are abdicating your responsibility by dumping your problems on a friend, or allowing yourself to go into crisis because you pushed things down for so long that they are blowing up, or going into crisis so you can make sure that you have friends who love you when you are in a place of self doubt is selfish and destructive, the middle path is quieter, calmer, and will lead you out of this.

observe the process gently so that it is truly a relieving pressure valve and process rather than a pity party. The first has merit for meeting the mind so it can spring back and move forward, the second mires you deeper into misery.

just like in yoga, pay mindful attention to your place of benefit. Check your alignment. Move with compassion. Ask more of yourself, observe the results, back off as necessary, make sure you are able to breathe long and slow through the effort. If you can't, reevaluate your place of benefit. With this mindful approach, your mind will snap back into a place of deep performance faster, healthier and open to process more. With a head down charge forward mindset, you will go only as far as you can until you cause harm, and then you will either stop all together, or spend a long time rehabilitating an injury.

As you deepen your practice, you will find that you rebound back and have greater depth and capacity for work, creativity and discipline with each willingness. Your mind is working like the rubber band that it is, you are going to your place of benefit and growing into yourself. Congratulations!

Beginning again is not beginning again, it's just life

I've written a couple of posts over the years about how frustrating it is when life derails you. And it seems like life derails you just when you a getting into the swing of things. Just when you've been going to the gym for two weeks, just when you've avoided desert for a week, just when you are starting to feel strong.

You go out of town and you eat like crap on the road. You begin to get strong and you get injured. You begin to develop a routine and you get sick.

But these aren't things that are sabotaging you. This is what happens in life. It's not "Are you going to get interrupted" it's "when are you going to get interrupted, how much does it rock you, and how long does it take you to get back after it?"

It's a lot like bump skiing. You are going from the top to the bottom. You are going to get knocked out of balance at least once. At least one of those bumps is going to be bigger than you guessed it would be, the hole after it will be deeper. But you are still moving down the mountain. What do you do when you hit it? How do you regroup?

Do you give yourself grace? Can you make a compassionate choice in the midst of super-frustrating chaos? Yes, your house is a mess and you have over-committed yourself again. What is the plan to get the train back on the rails?

In my own experience, while I was trying to change my life, to re-become a person who had nutrition and fitness and health as a top priority, every time I got sick, or injured or had to travel, or ate poorly, it felt like the road back to the right path was a difficult one.

I was counting in pounds - they seemed so hard to lose, and so easy to gain back. When I looked at life that way, it seemed next to impossible to gain ground. When I had three jobs and no money for yoga, I felt stymied.

But I finally opened my eyes to the fact that I could go for a walk with my kids, and if that was all I could do that day, so be it. I did something.

I realized, somewhere along the way, that if I just kept starting again, eventually I would just be living rather than starting over.

And I realized the other day, when my head touched my knee in yoga, a position my (excellent and talented) surgeon was pretty sure would never happen, that I had started again after surgery, by waking up from surgery and asking to take a walk. That desire to move, because movement leads to healthy, helped me heal. I put my scale away. I stopped counting my health in pounds.

It is true here that I needed to be willing to listen to my wise friends who had been through surgeries like this before me when they told me, "your job is not to get strong right now. Your job is to heal."

That was a hard thing for me to keep in perspective, it was hard for me to know when was pushing to hard, and when I was doing all I could in the boundaries of good healing. My body told me, and I learned to listen to it, and my friends.

It was a three month practice in patience. And then two more months of humility and more patience. My body would get strong in its own time, if I helped it, if I let it, if I asked it consistently, but didn't push it. I had to let go of my fear of being weak, of losing ground, and just be where I was, doing what I could do.

I knew I needed to get strong to make it to the tryout. I lost a huge amount of muscle in the 16 weeks after my surgery in september. I was weak. And flabby. And tired. And in pain. And I had to start again.

But something about this time was different. Maybe I just didn't want to atrophy, maybe it was having the surgery only a few months away from the tryout, but I was motivated to heal. And I didn't have a lot of cash, September and October are not terribly lucrative months in the ski biz. But I got some help from my community, and I looked to people that had been there before me, and I Reprioretized some things.

As soon as I could get a hundred bucks together, it went to the yoga studio. Because I knew that being in the hot room would help me heal. And it became a matter of health that I wish it had not taken a major surgery to teach me. I wish I could have felt permission from myself in my life earlier to do that. To go every day. Because it makes me strong, and healthy, and whole.

Because it gives me energy to play with my kids and do better at my job and it encourages me to fill my body with good, healthy food.

But it took the surgery, and that's okay. And after the surgery, I got healthier. And then I got sick, and I didn't t have to start over. I just went back to yoga after I felt better. I cared for myself long enough to recover and then I went back to the studio. And this time, it didn't feel like a long road back. It took six years to get to a place where I crave exercise. The kind that used to make me groan.

I could get there, after about three weeks of hard work, I could look forward to a workout. To a summit. But I never looked forward to the suffering. And now, the work doesnt feel like suffering, it feels like celebrating, it feels like living, it feels like necessary and wonderful care taking of my body and heart and mind.

And the journey back after a life event (rather than a setback) is just a re entry, not a starting over.
And here's the wonderful part. Now that I've stopped dreading the long journey back, the journey back has gotten shorter. Sometimes, it only lasts an afternoon. And then my routine is so familiar, that my body, in whatever state it is in, healing, healthy, somewhere in between, is just there, and so am I, and we work together to get stronger and more balanced and the journey continues, almost seamlessly.

And it occurs to me that this is not unique to changing fitness, it is unique to changing habit. Whether that's learning to be better with managing money, or time, or anger, or organization, or whatever it is that triggers you to wish that things were different. Change is very hard. It takes diligence, and practice, and grace, and compassion. And a willingness to begin again and again until one day, your beginning is just a continuation.

So stay after it when it feels like you've fallen off the band wagon, or life had thrown you a curve, or your pagan or momentum was interrupted, its going to happen again, thats life, that's living.

Practice starting again over and over and one day you may feel that you aren't starting again. You are just picking back up after the interruption ends, like restarting a conversation. You may need to recap to get back on track, and that's just fine. Welcome back.

Aspen Academy Training News Issue 5

Riding the hairy edge of overtraining!

SO the schedule I set myself was a bit on the WOW side. I have been able to ramp up into it to some extent, but the biggest lesson I've learned on my way to getting stronger is a big reminder that in order to gain strength and fitness, I have to allow my body to FULLY recover between workouts.

This is frustrating to me! But its a great lesson. My body is very different this time around than it was when I was younger, I recovered faster.

Obviously, the most important thing is for me to be on snow, mindfully practicing turning my feet in all different kinds of conditions. But, that being a given, I have to adjust what kind of terrain I'm on, how many hours I'm skiing, and how hard I'm going. Ive spent the last three weeks skiing really slow on groomed terrain because I'm working on changing a movement pattern. I chose to do two hard days, but they were only 31/2 or 4 hours each.

After that, we go into the rest of the training program...

So the first, most important thing is sleep. 8-10-12 hours a night. Your body can not recover if it isn't resting. I'm trying to be in bed by 9:30 and asleep by 10 every night.

The next thing that builds the foundation for fast recovery and strength gain and health is nutrition. When I'm completely devoid of sugar, I recover faster, sleep better, my energy is better.

I've managed to cut out alcohol completely, and reduced my sugar intake massively. I do let myself have a nibble of ice cream about once a week, but honestly, I'm losing my taste for it. Now I see it and I think, ooh, that would be good, and then I have a bite and I think, ugh, that's too sweet. I ate a kit kat during the CS2 exam in Vail because my energy was waning, and that did pop me up, but I felt that sharp slap after. Next time, I'm going for Justin's Peanut Butter instead.

I'm surprised at that change, not craving sugar and not really enjoying it when I have it, but I'm grateful for it. That took about six years... the thing that's harder to change is cutting out grains other than things like Quinoa.

I read the book Wheat Belly, and then started reading and listening to other research on how grains have changed in the last 50 years, how much we consume, and how quickly it turns to sugar. I'm thinking of bread as sugar now, so its easier to cut out. This certainly makes eating on the go more challenging, but I definitely feel better, more consistent energy when I'm away from the grains.

The next most important thing is Bikram Yoga. And yeah, I'm gonna say Bikram. Being in the hot room, letting all the water go through my body, rinsing me from the inside out, working those postures in that order, it heals me. I can go to Bikram every single day, sometimes twice a day, and it undoes all my other training (in a good way). I can adjust the workout to my place of benefit, so sometimes its really a vigorous workout, and sometimes my intention is to heal my legs from training so hard.

If I do other kinds of exercise every day, I get tired and overworked. Bikram is the medicine that heals all of that. If I don't go to class, its because I have a fever or I need to fit in a hard workout. But I am finding that those hard workouts can only happen once or twice a week.

I'm not skinning every other day like I was hoping to, I'm still recovering from other stuff. I have found that a good 20 minute walk or spin down on the bike helps my legs recover, so I'm starting with that. When we went down to the hot springs, I spent time walking around in the pool to try to work out the soreness.

The next most important thing is balance training, so I'm doing trampoline training once a week to improve my spatial awareness and over all athleticism. Its great for the core and hip flexors as well, but I am SO sore after it, its amazing. I don't feel when I'm there like I'm working out at all, but the next day, and for the next three days, I'm in recovery mode.

Skiing on one ski (dropping one at the top and getting after it) is the next most important thing, but it works me hard. Today, I am beginning to feel like I have legs back after skiing on one ski for four hours last Thursday. True, it was a powder day, and that made me work extra hard. But I learned a TON about my movement patterns, especially on my left leg. Then I paid for it for a couple of days.

I am loving Crossfit, and that has been the hardest thing to manage. I feel like a champion every single time I go. I feel like Rocky. I am stronger than I think I am, and the community, and the workout make me feel like a superstar. I get stronger, I get fit, I get sore. BUT.

When I'm that sore from training on snow, I can't go to Crossfit, because we do SO many leg intensive activities. Squats and box jumps are incredible for building strength from skiing, but I'm just not quite in a place where I can train as hard as I am on snow and gain benefit at Crossfit. I'm finding I can make it to Crossfit about once a week, because I won't go if I'm still recovering. And that is the piece that is taking more discipline than anything.

Because I want to be there. Working hard. But I've already injured and over trained my legs twice. Not because of Crossfit, but because of how hard I'm working, and then choosing to go to a workout that I know is going to overload my legs.

That makes me sad, because I want the strength gain, but my smarts tell me that I won't get strength gain if I'm so fatigued that I have to lift my legs up with my hands to get them in the car. (That's how my legs feel while they are recovering. After my one ski day, I was picking my legs up with my hands for three days.)

If I have a deep muscle pain, I can still go to Bikram, but I can't go to Crossfit. And I'm going to use my brain and be smart about this.

I'm eating my bananas, drinking my coconut juice, soaking in Epsom... I got a massage yesterday from Blades (HOLY WOW, hes really REALLY GOOD!) as my left side surgery muscles are aching and my neck is locking up... all that stuff from the surgery is tightening as I'm training, but it definitely feels much more healthy than it has, its getting strong.

I am finding that I can do one of Sharon's hot Vinyassa classes OR Crossfit, but not both in the same week. I'm doing tabatas at home that help fill in the gaps, situps, pushups and pullups, as well as forearm planks to build core and arm strength. That way, I can get the workout in the upper body and core if I can't go to Crossfit or Vinyassa. I'm definitely more worked after Crossfit than Vinyassa, so I pick according to how sore I am.

In this way, I'm gaining strength and balance slowly, pushing the edge and then seeing how long it takes to recover. I want to be sure that I enter tryouts with maximum strength, but also maximum energy. If my legs and body feel slow and heavy, that aint it. So this month is also about paying strong attention to how long recovery is, and what makes me feel like I've peaked.

Doing nothing on big recovery days does not help, there has to be a 20 minute walk or spin down, a soak, a massage, and maybe a Bikram class. And 12 hours of sleep on those days helps a lot.

The journey continues!