The Desire to Win means the Desire to Work. Thoughts on Healing and the Future.

Hardware. Feels good!

Hi, guys! Its been a bit since I've written, there's been lots of drooling and lots of sleeping. I've had a couple of long walks and hikes and my first post op exam.

The surgery was really succesful, as far as we can tell. My motor nerve seems to have come back 100%, but until I regain hand strength, we won't be able to tell. I can't start doing massage until after November 1, when I'm fully fused, and it will take about 6 weeks of massage to get my hand strength back, so by mid December, we'll know if I got my whole motor nerve back or not.

In the meantime, the headache that I've had for the last three years is GONE. WHAT? Yup. Gone. Wow. That is an unreal and awesome sensation.

Most of the time, the pain I've been living with in my neck, spine, back, shoulder and left arm is gone, but I'm still taking a lot of muscle relaxants and pain killers, so again, we'll have to wait and see. But it feels really promising.

I also am not having Fibro symptoms right now, but Fibro can by knocked out by narcotic drugs, so again, as we wean off the drugs, we'll see.

Woke up on night 2 in the hospital to this beautiful gift sleeping
in the Lazy Boy next to me.

I'm weaning off the collar now since the xrays look so good, I'm trying to be patient, but wow it is hard because I feel strong and I want to get after it.

I'm very lucky to have some folks in my life who have been through this themselves and who remind me to take it slow. The most important thing right now is that in the next four weeks, the fusion happens completely. As soon as I am fused, I  can start getting strong.

So I have this mantra running through my head right now, fuse first strong after, fuse first strong after... can't be strong if you aren't fused.

I'm sleeping as much as I can to aid healing, walking twice a day when I feel strong and resting a lot. I'm trying hard to get off the pain killers, but not so hard that I'm suffering.


Today, I realized that to some extent I've been repressing my stoke for skiing this winter, and toning down my internal hope that I will get invited to tryouts and my internal hope that I'll be able to get my feet where they need to be.

I felt as my condition worsened over the summer that this probably meant that it just wasn't meant to be for me. That the journey had been about the journey and that to some extent the surgery meant the end.

All done, and glad for it!

I felt as I was preparing for surgery like I was preparing to give up on this dream, like I was preparing for the end of my life as I knew it. It had never been about "making" the team, although of course that would be lovely, but just about going to tryouts.

Tryouts became an invitation event, making it one step harder to get to (although I think it will get them a nice field of candidates to chose from). But the consiquence of that change is I can't just go and ski my best.

I was pretty sure that I'd end up going through the motions this fall, getting rejected because I would be weak and have missed summer training, and that would be the sort of anti climactic end to this very educational journey.

Well, let the lessons continue.

I came out of surgery feeling so good! State Farm ponied up some money for a down payment on the surgery, and with that cash, I was able to hire my friend Janice to make nutrient dense vegitarian food that I've been living on.

As a result, I haven't gained weight, I haven't lost THAT much muscle, and I feel really healthy and strong. It occurred to me as I walked into town from the ranch last week, about 7 days out of surgery, that I was way stronger than I had expected.

I relized that my friend Andy had been right, I had been wearing fear for a long time about the unknown of the surgery, and it had been slowly pushing me into the ground.

Now that the surgery was over, no one was going to come and get me and say, "okay, we are ready to take you back" and wheel me into the operating room, I was free.

Free to wake back up, to look up at the mountains, and to remove the restrictions of fear. Free to dream again.

 So I'm applying .There's a piece of me that feels like this may be the most fun year I've had training and playing so far. I'm excited to be a trainer for the ski school. I looked up at Aspen Mountain today at the snow on the top and was thrilled to my toes. I could feel the turns coming on, feel the comeraderie of the locker room, of my skiing family, of all the folks who help each other learn and grow every day.

Unexpected family. The best win so far.

Its such an amazing family to be a part of. A big part of me feels like I've let out a huge breath, like I get to let go and just play and ski and the training will be the result. I feel like I've found my home, found my voice, and that it doesn't want or need to be a loud voice.

I feel like I've found a way to help, and that feels good. I feel like my body didn't let me down, and that feels good. I feel like I get to slow down in intensity and focus hard in work, which I love.

I am so grateful for this process, for the path that's taken me through all of these lessons, some of them over and over and over.


Today, I turned 40.

That seems unreal and ridiculous, but appropriate. I'm not worried or concerned about it, the last 10 years were way more fun than the 10 before it, so I'm expecting things to become more interesting, and I'm excited for the lessons that are on the way for me. I like the process of becoming, even though sometimes in the midst of it I really wish I was done.

Today, I spent the day with Tom, my ex, who is now living in Aspen, and who is now my housemate, and our two boys. We had a birthday breakfast, went to the bookstore, walked to the movies and saw Real Steele, an awesomely cheezy underdog movie that the boys loved.

Aspen Mountain promising fun this year!

I looked at how far we had come, Tom and I, to become good friends again, good enough to live together and be supportive of eachother as we hit bumps and dificulties in our other relationships, and I was just, once again, grateful and amazed that life works this way.

We've talked a lot on this blog about the fact that success is often about the wanting. To want it bad, the will to win, and also that wanting is the easy part.

Tonight, I realized, looking at the success of Tom and I, working through divorce, financial hardship and fear, and being able to beceome close, trusting, respectful friends who share a home, that the Will to Win means the will to work hard enough to win. The desire to win means the desire to fight, to train, to learn, to listen, to put in the hours and hours of hard work in order to acomplish something. You have to have the desire. Not for the prize, but for the work that manifests the prize.

Guess what? I have the will to tryout. I really hope I get invited, I'm excited to share that experience. And if I don't, man, the desire to work hard enough to get there will have been worth it.


Thanks for sharing my birthday with me!!

Crankworx Madness at Winter Park!

Kurt and I spent the weekend at Winter Park Resort watching the downhill mountain biking championships. One word. Awesome.

We drove over on Saturday night, got to spend a lovely evening with some friends, (bliss!) slept in (double bliss!), had breakfast on the deck and then, after a little Thai Massage all around, headed over to Winter Park.

I've never been there, and I was excited to go for a few reasons. First, my very first skiing mentor, Mike Hickey and his wife, Bonnie, are from Winter Park, so I was excited to get a first hand look at their old stomping ground. Also, Bob Barnes (the other one) is the director there, and he's just about as fun as they make em, so I was hoping to get to say hi.

Barney wasn't around on Sunday, so Kurt and I headed up the hill to watch the madness. Winter Park is amazing, they did a great job making it homey and fun. I couldn't BELIEVE how crowded it was, they definitely have their summer fun dialed.

There was mini golf and mini zip lines for the little kids, an awesome alpine slide, lots of tables, chairs and umbrellas and food stands all around so you could get a beverage easily and still watch your kids play.

People were pedaling around in their full armor on their gnarly full suspension bikes, and it was EVERYONE, not just the competitors. I saw kids as young as 7 all decked out with huge grins on their faces, I saw moms, I saw whole families. I had NO idea the sport of Down Hill Mountain Biking was so accessible!

My experience on a mountain bike thus far had been sketchy, scary and painful. (but fun). I had kind of come to the conclusion a year or so ago that I'd better buy a road bike and learn to love to suffer, because I was getting too old to fall off my bike. And when I did fall off my bike, it was scary and ridiculously painful. The consequences just seemed too high. I wished I had the talent to ride, but it just seemed like I should have learned when I was 18, not 35.

Enter purpose-built trails, bikes with huge squishy full suspension, full body armor, and a little bit of technique and instruction. Almost ANYONE can do it. Kurt had a family the other day in his lesson that had like 10 people in it. The youngest was 9. The oldest was 74!

But I'm getting ahead of myself. (because I want to tell you about what it feeeellls like to ride like this... but that's the next day. hold on to your britches. here we go.)

SO we hike up the trail and wander off under this huge bridge to watch the best guys in the nation get after it.

 While we were there, we ran into Chris Conrad (the guy with the chainsaw) and the Tater Patch crew. These guys had hiked up and brought shovels and huge nails to bang on them, cow bells, the chain saw, and they were creating a huge and AWESOME ruckus as the riders came ripping through the wood and launched off this huge rock before making a hard turn to the right.

The speeds these guys ride at and the amount of air they got were truly inspiring, and Kurt and I left feeling really REALLY psyched to ride the next day!

Stay tuned for more DH Mountain biking insanity... (and thanks for your patience, its high season here in Aspen, so we are all working our tails off. I finally folded my laundry and I can find my bed again... ahhh!!)

Brilliant Skiing Every Day!

It's here! Weems Westfeldt has re written his most excellent book, Brilliant Skiing Every Day! This book is almost as good as having Weems in your pocket, its written in clear, personable language, taking the often complex concepts of skiing and making them really accessable.

Weems reintroduces the Sports Diamond, the framework on which the top pros at the Ski and Snowboard Schools of Aspen teach, and puts it in your own hands. The photography is spectacular, the writing is fantastic, and the content is essential! If you don't have a copy, GET ONE!

(Is that clear enough? This is a great book. You need it in your library. You need it by your bed. But you don't need a highlighter and protractor to read it.)

Visit Edgechange.com and get your copy today!

When Folding Towels is Training for Ski Mountaineering

I don't always get to train as I'd like. For instance, today, I am stuck in the spa for eight hours with only one massage. It is, after all, the off season.

This is a BEAUTIFUL time to be in the Aspen Valley, its quiet, there is snow on the ground, and you can feel ski season right around the corner. Its not a great time to be stuck in the basement of the hotel when every single piece of you is whining and yearning and straining to be outside moving moving moving my body.

But we know from experience that whining is the same thing as wishing, and if anyone has been paying attention up till now, we also know that Wishing is the same thing as Suffering!!

RIGHT! The definition of suffering is wishing that something was other than it is.

And so, I am inside, I have a good job that I love at a great place in Aspen (boo hoo, Kate!). And today, I am keeping myself busy by stocking linen.

We have a big cart that comes in every night from the Laundry service that is full of towels. The towels all need to be sorted, folded, and stocked into the locker rooms every day. We have all day to do this, and its an easy task, exhausting neither mentally or physically. But when you are wishing that you could be outside, the mountain of towels and sheets seems to make the day interminable.

Here, I have a choice. I can look at this task and use it as a way to increase my suffering, thereby swimming in my own wishes and desires, changing nothing about the fact that I can't go outside today, decreasing the size of the laundry pile by not a single iota, and increasing my distress and resentment at having to fold all this nonsense just so it can get used once and put back in the laundry again, or, I can make a different choice.

There is an old saying, "Nothing is so difficult as that which is done reluctantly."

And so I choose to train for ski mountaineering today. I choose to get hard to work, in my spa uniform and my sensible Dansko shoes. No one knows what I am doing, why I am so intensely focused on the freaking towels every day, and I don't really mind. I'd rather work in silence, but I'm happy to chat and visit and joke too.

But here is what I notice. I set some parameters for myself. There is a job that doesn't want doing, which probably takes an hour and a half to two hours. I make the decision that the job will be done start to finish before I eat my lunch, answer my email, read my new book (Reinhold Messner's Annapurna: 50 years of Expeditions in the Death Zone), write my blog post, or any of the articles, poems or stories that are constantly swimming around in my head.

That's the first part. Work start to finish on the task at hand before reward.

The second part is to observe my attitude and behavior while I am working, and use this time to train some mental discipline.

I recognize the fact that when my small laundry truck is halfway full, I have the desire to push it through the spa to the folding area. But the cart isn't full, and the desire to end this task and move onto the next one is a good example of an undisciplined mind. I'm not tired, this isn't hard, the reason I want to move on is that I'm bored and changing tasks helps keep things fresh.

And so the next rule that I have for myself is that each part of the job, each individual task, must be completed to its fullest extent before moving on to the next step. (This, by the way, is NOT how I run the rest of my life, although maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to borrow a page here. I tend to answer email and face book and write stories and blog posts while doing laundry and cooking dinner and playing guitar and talking to Michael on the phone, leading to a life of blissful chaos in which the occasional personal task gets done and I'm enormously pleased with myself.)

And so, I use a tool that I learned in studying Vipassana Meditation (The art of observing your breath, without changing anything. Also the art, sometimes, of not running screaming from the room because you are suddenly completely alone with yourself and your mind runs like a wild monkey over what ifs and what were's), which is this: I gently call my mind back to the task and ask myself lovingly to complete it. There is no beratement, no judgement, no criticism. I allow myself to laugh or smile at my human folly and my proclivity to want to abandon my task in search of another one, and when I am able to call my attention to this action; to observe my desire to leave the task at hand, I relate it to monkey mind.

Suddenly, I am able to observe myself bending over, lifting the towels and placing them in the laundry cart. There is no time, the task does not begin or end, I leave off marking progress as the level of the laundry in one bin reduces and the level in the other increases. I find what pleasure there is to be found in the methodical repetition of the task at hand, and I am pleased with my ability to step over my desire to leave the task and embrace it wholly. Living in the knowledge that the desire to abandon was fleeting, and that that desire had a front side, and a back side, and that on the back side there was peace, space, and contentment, slowly, the laundry cart empties and it is time for the next task.

In this manner, all of the laundry is sorted, folded and delivered. I am not sad that I have to do it, but I am fascinated with my continual desire to stop.

This reminds me so intensely of what it is like to climb up a mountain before I ski down it. I love to climb, I love to live in the mountains, but there is always, still, for me, a section of the climb in which I wonder how long till it ends, and if I could just wish myself up onto the summit and skip the last third. Mountains have a way of keeping the hardest pitch for last, and as you expend your energy, the task before you often increases in dificulty, either just in physical exertion or in both physical, mental and technical.

Finding that space in your mind where you are moving, continually, you are living in the methodical rhythm of your footfalls, and asking yourself to be present, to observe, and if it becomes dificult, to feel the sun on the side of your body where it is touching, and the cold on the side where it isn't touching, and to come back into your body, and renew your dedication to moving upwards on the mountain, is dificult, and incredibly rewarding.

I think that the reward, (and I'm not talking about the summit here, I'm talking about the small rewards along the way, each time you step over your desire to stop, or you step over your need to go slowly and you manage to increase, and hold your speed, using this trip to train for the next, just like each Yoga class is the foundation for the class that follows, and each meditation is the foundation for the practice which follows), anyhow, I think that the reward is in allowing your spirit to fill with those small victories, and then just as easily letting go of the victory, that pride, the ego, and finding again nothing but the task.

Be it folding towels, be it sorting receipts, be it walking for twenty minutes on the pavement, or climbing a 14er, or an 8000 meter peak, be it tuning your gear well, or preparing food for your family, there is a benefit, there is an opportunity to train into your body the ability to have wells of discipline which you can call on when everything in you is telling you to abandon your task.

Compassion for the French Tipped

This morning, I was in yoga class, and I was struggling. Not with the postures which our esteemed teacher decided it would be prudent and beneficial to hold for an interminable amount of time, but with my own person, judgments, and ego.

And then, if you are open, you can maybe move to the full expression of the pose...

  For my birthday, my wonderful and loving partner, Michael, bought me 45 days of unlimited yoga at the o2 studio in Aspen. This is an incredible gift, I haven't had a consistent yoga practice in ten years at least, and it feels amazing to begin every day with yoga, and to sometimes be ridiculous enough to stay for Pilates and bend my belly into ski shape.

My favorite thing about trying to do yoga every day at the same time is that you end up going no matter if you are tired, or sad, or happy, or energized. It doesn't become about "feeling" like going, but just about going, and finding your practice every time you show up.  What does today's practice mean? Is it about continuously committing to trying, in every moment, because you really don't want to be there and you are just waiting for the class to be over?

Spending an hour and twenty minutes trying to change that attitude from one of depressive negativism into positive change, and then hold onto that slippery sucker and make it stick so that when you leave the studio, you not only feel glad that you came, but like you overcame and emerged changed as well is a wonderful experience.

I'll be honest, I was glad that Bodhi had been puking all night yesterday (well, I wasn't glad that he was sick, that's a bummer for him, but the repercussions meant that I could say to Michael, sorry, honey, I'm staying home with him just in case he's sick again.) and I got out of yoga.

What a funny thing to say. I got out of having to go to yoga. This practice which is by me, for me, which forces me to work on compassion, for myself, for my body, and for everyone else in the room, this practice which strengthens my body and makes my Fibromyalgia feel soooo much better, this practice which helps me to begin my day grounded, focused and alive, calm and deep into my open heart, I managed to get out of it yesterday.

This makes me smile at my human folly, and brings up another subject that I've been thinking about, that of abdicating our responsibility for our own health and happiness.  But that's another post.

Each of us gets benefit no matter how deeply we go.

Today, I want to talk about the fact that I did NOT get out of going to yoga today, I went, I was glad to go. I walked into the studio feeling sad that I had missed class the day before, and unhappy with myself for eating a half a box of Wheat Thins last night while I was devouring a fascinating book called Shocktrauma about the first dedicated trauma hospital in the nation, built in the 1970s. I was trying not to miss Michael, who left for Africa after yoga class yesterday.

 So into yoga this morning, I carried my belly, a bit distended and unhappy with me, and I carried only one mat, as Michael is gone for 35 days, and the rhythm of my new life with him begins to show itself, here for a month, gone for a month, here for a month, gone for a month, and I begin to learn what it means to live with and without him as I continue to walk down my path.

I wore a shirt that falls off my belly when I do inversions, and consequently, I had the opportunity to view my belly every time I went back into Downdog. Today, I set my intention for my practice at compassion for my belly. Which is getting stronger every day, which made two people, was a house for them, and now hangs a bit slack (I try to think of it as gloriously slack, but that doesn't always work).  If I looked through my legs past my belly, I could see the Aspen that everyone thinks of when they think of Aspen on their mats behind me.

To be honest, this is the first time that I've encountered this in class. This studio, while expensive and quite beautiful, tends to attract people with a deep practice and an open heart.

A friend once told me when I was about to move here that Aspen is a skier's town. Yes, there are rich, and beautiful and plastic people that come here five weeks out of each season, and some of them even live here year round, but you choose the circle you travel in, and every single kind of circle seems to be well represented here. The population as a whole is fit, healthy, and outside.

And every once in a while, either on my table in massage, and now in yoga class, I come across someone that I have trouble loving. And in that moment, I have an opportunity to listen to that old, nagging voice... "What is the lesson you are meant to learn here?" In cases like this the lesson is that my ego has taken hold again when I wasn't paying attention, and it is time to practice peeling it off, setting it aside and really being open to the person who is in front of me, who is now my teacher, and I their humble student.

The well put together woman. Including french tips.

There were two women in class today, each with french tipped manicures. They were both beautiful in that sculpted with a knife kind of way, each woman in her mid fifties, each with high, firm, round breasts popping precariously out of their beautiful designer yoga tops. Each was wearing an enormous shining diamond ring, each had a low ponytail that never seemed to get mussed of beautifully colored blonde hair.  Each was ripped. And I mean RIPPED. These ladies had sculpted hard bodies, tasteful makeup, and seventy dollar yoga mats in their own designer sack. As the thought occurred to me that these were my teachers today, I rebelled. Any lessons they had to teach me, I did not want to learn. Which meant, of course, that it was probably a really important lesson, and today was the day to learn it.

And I was struggling. I was shocked to find myself looking. Most of the time, yoga is so hard (and this class was no exception) that I get a kind of fuzzed out gaze and just go to work. I had a teacher at the yoga House in Pasadena who once told us "yoga is a practice for yourself. Do not look around and compare yourself to anyone else in the room. You can not be "good" at yoga. Being deeper in the pose does not mean you are Better. A person who is tight in their body gets as much benefit from folding forward and being nowhere near the floor as the person who folds over, lays their belly on their thighs and presses their palms flat to the floor. You go into the pose as deeply as you need to to gain benefit from the pose. As you continue your practice, that place of benefit will change."

I found that statement to be SO relieving and it gave me permission to go to class and "suck at it" from a Western perspective. From that day on, I didn't worry about if my clothes were the cool yoga clothes, or if I was flexible enough or if I was making the teacher impressed or proud, or if other people in the class could tell that I did yoga frequently by how excellent my postures were. On that day, my practice became my own, and it began to become a healing practice for both my heart and my body.

Today, however, I couldn't stop looking at those french tips. I wasn't angry, but I was confused. I was sad. I found myself wondering what they thought of me, I wondered if they thought I was low rent, if they thought they were better than me. I was surprised to find how toxic those thoughts were; suddenly I was having trouble in balancing postures, I was having trouble surrendering to the energy that the posture was creating and allowing it to deepen, I was suddenly struggling and fighting.

 I felt shame come up, because I knew that in projecting those thoughts on those ladies, who, after all, were here in yoga, I was wondering if they were judging me only because I was judging them. I did not want to admit it. I want to be a person who has an open heart for everyone.

I searched for some compassion, and it was hard. Part of me wanted to say, well, they can't possibly be gaining benefit because they are so wrapped up in yoga as exercise, as a parade, that they aren't practicing a deep internal practice, of compassion and love. THEY ARE MISSING THE POINT.

Um, Hello? Are you listening to yourself? Sheepishly, I looked at the women. They were good friends, and I wanted to think of them as catty, gossipy, coffee club kind of girls, the head cheerleader and her best friend. But is there some possibility that I'm pulling that idea forward and imposing it on these women? Who am I to judge why they got their boobs done? Wasn't I just lamenting the sad state of my flaccid belly only moments before? If I had the power to change it with a tummy tuck, I hope that I wouldn't take that temptation, but instead learn to love myself better and deeper, but I'll tell you what. It would be hard to resist.

Each practice is individual, non competitive, and what you wear and how you look while you are doing it don't help you gain benefit from the postures.

And so I started rooting around for some compassion. I wandered through thoughts of sadness about what it must feel like to live in denial of aging to such a degree that your life becomes focused and centered around looking youthful, to such a degree that you become a gross cartoon of a younger body. And then I realized that statement is full of judgment again.

And so I worked some more, sweating, feeling fat and ugly next to these beautiful store bought women, and I realized that I needed not to look for an answer but just to let go of my fear. French tipped manicures mean something in my past which tells me the woman sporting them is a bitch. My job is to recognize that association and sever it, being willing to see the person in front of me regardless of what they are clothed in. Some people wear dread locks and a diaper and ash on their face. Some people put silicone inside their skin and acrylic on their nails. They are both people wearing costumes that indicate clan or culture, bringing the wearer a sense of belonging to a group.

These two ladies belonged to each other, they were of the same tribe, they were fond of each other, and I watched the friendship between them, and felt my judgment melt away. I was surprised at what my practice had offered me this morning. I had guessed that it was going to be about going to yoga on my own without Michael.
Instead, it turned out to be about unearthing, all at once, human prejudice that sits so very close to the surface.

Wanna be faster? Have to practice going fast.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I'm sick of wishing I was faster. If I want to be faster I need to quit whining and practice going faster. I'm lucky, I work at the Aspen Club and Spa, and if we aren't booked, we are encouraged to work out!

I just spent 27 minutes on the freakin' treadmill running uphill as high as it goes at 4.7 miles per hour. Thats as long as I could run. Thank GOD Austin Powers was on. Then I spent another 20 alternating uphill and flat from 3.6 mph to 4.7.

I'll get there. That which it is used for it becomes. I will use my body to run, it will become a body that is good at running.

Hunter Creek Humble Pie

I was out hiking with Kurt last night, we had decided to hike Hunter Creek to Smuggler Mountain rather than our original plan of heading out to the Conundrum Hot Springs in the full moon, because of the intermittent downpours which had been happening all day.

I'd packed my bag for the hike out to Conundrum, a 17 mile round trip which Kurt was hoping to make in 8 hours, including time to socialize and soak with the hoards of people that were like minded full moon hot springs lemurs.

And so the evening found us, me in my heavy capris and a couple of layers with a big backpack and plenty of water, jogging behind Kurt in his light weight distance running gear, tiny fanny pack, and the smallest water bottle known to man strapped to his hips.

Acoustomed as I am to looking like a total goober, I wasn't that concerned about it. Besides, the weight of the pack and the weight of the water could only be good for training, right?

Well, yes, except for when you are chasing someone who is insanely fit. Here's the thing. Even when Kurt isn't in training, even when he's been "relatively lazy" as he puts it (I'm not sure five days straight of backbreaking trail building work on the back of Aspen Mountain counts as lazy, but whatever...) he's still ridiculously fast, lean and strong.

And while I am slowly, agonizingly slowly, getting faster and leaner, I'm still leagues behind being able to keep up. We jogged all the flat bits, sprinted the bridges, and did plyometric exercises up all the cut steps and boulders along Hunter Creek.

"Fierce conversation, Kate?" he asked.

I nodded, eagerly. This is when I learn!

"Yes, please." I said.

"Its a good thing we didn't go up to Conundrum, it would have taken us 12 hours at least."

What? Are you kidding? Now I don't have any illusions about how fast or in shape I am, I mean, I can go all day for days on end at my regular comfortable pace, but its true, when I put speed on it, I tire quickly. I know this must change. I'm not sure how to make it happen other than just put my head down and suffer through it.

It seems to be in direct opposition to the edict, "Find a pace you can go at without stopping, and don't change that pace no matter the pitch change." My thinking here is just to get stronger, and leaner, and keep pushing faster on the trail.

Anyhow, I knew that I could hike Baldy in four or five hours in Bozeman, that's a 10 mile round trip up very steep terrain. Does that mean I couldn't do 20 miles in 8 hours? Maybe so.


"Here is what I know. When you go uphill, you breathe harder and you slow down a lot." This was not a criticism, this was an observation. Now I, myself had observed something similar, so I guess its time to work even harder at building some base with some speed. I think I might have to start jogging. Oh I had REALLY hoped it wouldn't come to that.


Regardless, it was great to get out and get some good exercise, its always good to see just how far I have to go in fitness to be as strong as I'd like to be. And as Kurt so aptly reminded me last night as we came down into town in the dark, "The wanting is the easy part, Kate."

Getting to a Goal

To get somewhere, you've gotta plan. You wouldn't go on a backpacking trip without checking that you have everything you need, planing your route, checking the weather, organizing transportation, and letting the people in your life know you will be gone. If it was a big hike, you might even hike a little extra for a few months so your body felt strong enough to tackle the task ahead.

This is how I feel about trying out for the team. Originaly, the idea of trying out was really just an excuse to get the trainers to take me seriously, when I train at anything, I really like to be focused and work hard. I am happier in an environment where I'm being challenged mentally and physically to my max. That's not to say skipping any levels, or trying to tackle advanced concepts when what I need is a grasp of the basics, that's to say that while working toward grasping the basics, I like to work hard.

Eventually, I realized that I really did see the team as a dream job, that being able to reach as many people as possible and work with them on unlocking the things that were keeping them from asking their feet to do what they wanted them to do would be a life fulfilling job for me. A soul job.

Originally, I started writing my blog so that my mom and my sisters could keep track of me, we all lived in different cities, and we are very close. When I started skiing, I moved into a world that they didn't know anything about. One day, my sister was out visiting for Thanksgiving, and she showed me how to blog.

Eventually, other people started reading the blog, too, and I realized that I was not alone, that there are so many of us who want to become better. Better people, better moms, better friends, better coaches, better skiers. We have become a community of people who are striving, every day, to do what we love, to live our lives with integrity which includes honoring the voice inside that says, I wish I was the kind of person that liked to hike. I wish I was the kind of person who played outside with their kid. And then taking the risk of making that change, and really living the life you love.

Over the course of the last four seasons, the goal of the tryout has stayed with me, its not the thing that drives me, but its the thing that keeps me true. Its that signpost. I'm an easily distracted person. I always have been. I've bounced from career to career, all of which I've loved, art, acting, skating, climbing, cooking, cloth diaper making mom... I get seized by a new idea and its easy for me to love the conception part and get bored with the follow through.

This is one reason why having a goal that is hard to reach, (very very hard to reach) is so important to me. It might not be the right thing for someone else, having a goal that is, as some would say, impossible, might be discouraging or distracting to them, or all consuming.

One of the things that I love to do in my life is performance coaching. I, believe it or not, am a planner. But I'm sort of an esoteric planner. I'm not great at planning the details of everyday life. But I love to work with a client to help them make a path to achieve a goal.

This is the first time that I've used my performance coaching model on myself in an athletic pursuit, and its an interesting experience.

When I start working with a new client, the first thing I ask them is, what's your goal? Most people have many, but for the purposes of clear impetus, we choose just one. Mine is to be a viable candidate for the 2012 National Alpine Team.

The next thing I ask them is why? What motivates you? Because your motivation needs to be healthy, clean, and true. If you are motivated, driven to succeed by a coping mechanism, for instance, I want to win a gold medal because I hope that I will prove to my parents that I have worth and am worth loving, you aren't going to go very far. And if you are one of the few who manages to actually "make it" with a motivation like that, odds are you won't be very happy when you get there, and you won't stay there long.

I believe that longevity in success (success being being happy and satisfied, with a feeling of goodwill and contentment) has SO much to do with what motivates us to succeed.

Often times, I will work with a client for a long time on the why before we ever even walk towards the how.

Sometimes, its hard to look at your motivation, because you want your goal so badly. The taste of victory, the idea of winning respect, or love, or pride, for yourself or from others, can be seductive. But it is a hollow motivation that will abandon you when you need your motivation most.

In your journey toward success, it is inevitable that you will meet naysayers. There are all kinds of bumper stickers and sayings that show this happening all around us, just today I saw "Those who abandon their dreams will seek to destroy yours." I believe this can be true. I believe that we are mirrors for each other, and that often when someone around us is succeeding, it is painful for those who are motivated by something less than healthy to watch. They tend to feel threatened, they look for reasons why you should not be doing what you are doing, they don't look deeply, ask questions, or come from a compassionate place.

We can be that person to ourselves just as easily. We can be judgemental, and mean, and less than compassionate to ourselves without even knowing it. The sabotage factor. The fear of success. So many of us say we want to be succesful, but that idea of the Will to Win, that idea of wanting the Win, of seeing ourselves on the victory lap, often jumps right over what it is that it TAKES to get there.

And the first, most fundamental piece of that is WHY. Why do you want to do this?

I often tell my clients, you may not like what you see when I ask you that question. If that's the case, don't turn your face away from the answer, look right at it. Walking towards that motivation, gently, and unpackaging it, is a very powerful step toward your goal. Knowing that you come from a place that is not of integrity (to yourself) or strength, and ignoring it because you want the prize is a strong indicator that when you hit a bump on your journey, like the bump of running into a naysayer, you will lean on your motivation, your own self for help, and that support of what drives you had better be solid, strong and healthy. If its not, chances are you will fall into a very lonely place, get way off track, and find yourself in the unenviable position of having to start all over again every six weeks or so.

The next thing I tell them is that you can keep your goal, and even work toward it, while you are searching for a healthier motivation. You don't have to abandon your goal because you are driven to succeed by some old pattern in your life.

In fact working toward your goald while you are examining your motivation and searching for a strong foundation is a great way to practice staying focused even when you are not well supported. Because believe me, along your journey at some point, you are going to need that skill.

For me, originaly, I wanted to have the goal of trying out for the team because I wanted to go through the process of training for the team. I liked the idea of how much my skiing would improve if I trained in that manner. I love the repeition of hard work, I find it medatative, and I find myself frustrated and unable to focus when i have unspecific, vague paramiters for training. I am not disciplined enough to work "as needed" and get anywhere, I get distracted and move onto the next thing.

Over time, the motivation changed, I wanted the job of team member because I wanted to be able to travel and teach all over the country, I like the idea of dragging ideas across division lines, and I loved the idea of teaching teachers. I love the idea of lighting people on fire, of remotivating them, of helping them find the thing that makes them feel most like they are contributing or doing their job well.

Knowing that motivation, and settling into it, I was able to make a roadmap of things I needed to do to get there. Along the way, one of those things was to let go of the goal.

People asked me quite a bit if I could remove the goal and just ski, if I could not talk about the steps and the small landmarks along the way. I was frustrated at this for a while, because while I know that letting go is key to becoming whole, I was not ready in my journey to get to that point yet. My skiing wasn't where I needed it to be, my understanding wasn't where I needed it to be.

But this year was the year. Keeping the signpost of the goal, I let go of needing to tick way points on my journey off the list. I had some ideas that I'd like to do TA for both Rocky Mountain and PSIA this year, so that I could sit the E1 next year, so I would have been teaching at that level for two years before the try out.

But I realized that those things are not necessarily things that are required to be on my resume to be a viable candidate at the tryout. So this was the year to let go, and work on finding my way in my new home in Aspen, feeling my feet, working hard, and growing in other ways.

Now, things are changing again.

The next thing I have my clients do when we make a performance plan is to make a list of Impediments. What are all the things that can keep you from achieving your goal? My list looked like this:

Money
Age
My skiing is not good

So those are some pretty significant impediments. Across from the impediment, we make a list of solutions for each impediment:

Money:
Move to a ski school that pays more.
Reduce travel to training by moving somewhere with the training you want.
Get a second job that pays well but does not distract from skiing.
Pursue sponsorship opportunities to reduce outgoing money.

Age:
Because I can't change my age, I decided that I could change how prepared I am. I can make sure that even though I will be older than the average first time candidate, I can also be more prepared.

I made a list of things that would help mitigate the age factor:
Strength
Cardio and core strength
Attend a tryout and watch and be involved as much as possible

and so on.

We then take the prioritize removing the impediments. As much as I'd like to go to Pilates class twice a week to get core strength of doom, I can't afford it, so the money factor is keeping me from removing other impediments. Therefore, we tackle money first, while doing everything we can to support the other pieces. Sit-ups on the floor at home will do for now, and is moving in the positive direction of attaining the goal, while I work on money.

And so here we are. Its time for me to examine my performance plan and make sure that I am working diligently toward my goal. Why? Because I want to get there! I'm looking forward to trying out, and I can only be as strong a candidate as I can be if I continue to do things that support that starting now.

And... its coming sooner that we all think it is. Rocky Mountain Divisional tryouts are in 11 months. If I was 11 months away from a National qualifier in skating, I'd be living at the training center and living a very specific, detailed, carefully planned life all aimed at having the highest chance for performing to my potential on the day it matters most.

Luckily, training toward this goal does not pull me away from doing a good job at my job. The job I'm applying for as a candidate for the National Team is the job of excellent teacher, with a depth of knowledge that allows me to communicated concepts VERY clearly to any kind of student, the ability to inspire and excite your students, and the feet to demonstrate the skills you are looking for well.

To that end, I have a new trainer. I've asked someone who is a bit of a hard-ass, a pragmatic, practical person if they would help me train. He has agreed. He has agreed to hold me accountable in a direct way. Not unfriendly, but clear and specific. Nothing about this is about protecting my feelings or ego. I have a job, to make a strong body. He has a job, to call me on any bullshit and ask me to have a higher level of commitment. The bar has been raised.

We are working on making a body this summer that is strong and balanced in a way that allows my fitness to be an asset rather than a detriment to my skiing. A null to positive factor.

The last two years of this project begins now.

Slacklining for Beginners and Kids

My friend Mo, an amazing and accomplished climber and all around uuber mom, asked me what the trick is for learning to slackline. I'm counting the days after I post this to a video of her bouncing across it blindfolded...

Some tips for learning to slackline!

First, get a slackline thats easy to set up! I use a Gibbon Slackline, it takes about five minutes, and the kids can do it on their own; I just have to tighten it and check it.

Gibbon has them for beginners, kids, they have trick lines, and classic lines. I have a trick line, and my kids learned on it just fine. No, I cant' do any tricks yet. But my kids love how bouncy it is, and I love that I can train for skiing while I'm playing them!

Do it with someone the first time who can give you some pointers! My friend Kurt is great at this, and he's also a patient teacher, so that helped.

Here's how he taught me, and I taught my kids:

First, have an adult sit on one end of the line, to slow down its "action" (the amount it moves side to side).

Put the foot you are going to stand on first on the line, with the line right in the middle of your foot. Put your other leg, your current standing leg, RIGHT up against the line, to stabilize the line. Use your leg thats on the ground like a guy wire as you stand up.

Stand up all at once, pushing down on your line leg and pushing off of the ground at the same time, like taking a big pedal on a bicycle.

Take three tries on each leg before resting. Be patient with yourself.

Look ahead, at a spot on the tree in front of you. Have loose, flowy arms. The guys that are really good at this look like they are dancing at a grateful dead concert, just with their arms. Make small, light, soft corrections for your balance. Big moves that are corrections require their own recovery moves!

Don't try to walk! Stand and balance on each foot for 20 seconds before you try to walk.

When you are ready to try to walk, swing your free leg forward and back, touching the line with your toe in front of you and in back of you so you know where it is without looking at it. Don't look down! Look at the tree!

The line is going to vibrate. Accept this. The more you accept, physically and emotionally that the line is going to move, the less it will move. The more you try to fight it and stabilize it, the more it will wobble under you.

Breathe out, relax, and just feel your balance.

Then, take a step. Repeat obsessively whenever weather permits.


For Bodhi, who is six, I walked across the line holding his hand for the first three days, I stood facing him and let him bounce up and down, he likes to hang on it, and crawl on it... I think any time playing on it leads to the desire to walk on it. He's practicing learning the etiquette of knowing when its someone elses turn, just because it feels like he's been on it long enough.

Ethan, who is eight, had his hand held the first three or five times he stood up onto the line, and then let go (the less you hold their hands, the faster they get their own balance). Ethan learned to jump onto the line before he could balance on one foot or walk.

Interested in a Gibbon line? Click HERE, a small portion of the sale goes to my training fund!