US Ski Team Powder Girls was quite fun!!

So as I mentioned earlier, I got the bizarre and wonderful experience of team teaching with four retired US Ski Team athletes last week. It was two and a half days of absolute fun, working with four or five women in a group. Each group had an athlete and an instructor.

On the first day, I was assigned one of the "hard charging" groups, and we skied with Caroline LaLieve and Donna Wienbrecht. Osstensibly, part of my job is to guide the groups around the mountain, but as many of these women, especially the high end skiers are Aspen Locals, they know the mountain much better than I do!

After doing my best to know where I was and make some suggestions in the morning of the first day, I realized that I should just get the ball rolling by asking what kind of terrain they wanted to ski, and get us moving, with Katherine or Susan in the lead.

I focused on helping the women identify what they wanted to do with their skiing, and helping them get there. For a lot of the women, it was removing fear by increasing skill, for many of them, it was understanding why they turn, and what a turn should look and feel like. What is their belief system about why and how they should turn in skiing? Its amazing how many different answers you get to that question. About as many different answers as their are skiers.

One of the amazing things about teaching with athletes at this level, is that you have an incredible picture. Donna was willing to demonstrate anything anywhere, showing us super highspeed mogul technique, and then rounding it out and slowing it down for the women, and we worked really well together explaining what we wanted from the ladies.

Caroline and I skied steeps and bumps, and Caroline is moving into more all mountain skiing now, which is evident in her incredibly adaptive skiing. I don't think I saw this woman out of balance once. Her image is one of consistent balance, and choice... I see her skiing "into the future" and adapting her turns playfully to the terrain. I had a spectacular crash skiing with her RIGHT under the Temerity lift on Highlands (yes, in uniform, yes, yes, I owe everyone on the chair a beer...)

I actually haven't had a wreck like that in quite a while, ass over teakettle, lost a ski, hit myself in the back of the head with the other ski, two full somersaults and came up smiling. Hey. It was a powder day.

We hooked up with an incredible extreme skier, Susan Plummer, after that run, and spent the rest of the morning free-skiing every gnarly line we could get into in Highlands. It was wonderful.

I also got to teach with Picabo Street for a full day, in which we focused on upper and lower body separation, and pressure on the outside ski. We shot video, which was great, and then went into Bernie's shack at the top of Aspen Mountain to review it. That day the two of us had just two students almost all day, and it was great to be able to hand them back and forth to each other and help change their understanding of what they are trying to get the ski to do in the snow, and how their body performance is affecting their ski performance.

Picabo and I hit it off famously, although she missed Megan Harvey, whom she had taught with the year before, quite a bit. Megan had made a beautiful bridge for the athletes, helping them to express what they do and giving them some tools to explain things really well. This set me up for success this year, and the whole thing went really well. Can I just say how bizarre it was to watch video of Picabo and I skiing 8s together as demonstration to the ladies? We were going for showing them the race form and the same turn with the same rhythm detuned to the recreational form.

After having such a great time teaching and playing in the snow together, there were a few days there where we thought that Picabo and I would be able to ski Powder 8s together, but the schedules don't line up for this year, Picabo has a speaking engagement on the day of the finals. So keep your fingers crossed for next year! How fun would that be!!

Megan and I will be teaching a follow up clinic to the Powder Girls for next season at the end of February, and we're really looking forward to it!

If YOU are interested in skiing with the US Ski Team and raising money for the team, which is all privately funded, please email me at kate howe (at) mac (dot) com (all one word) and I'll send your information on!

Team Teaching with Donna Weinbrecht and Picabo Street!

Well, my weekend certainly shaped up! Of course, you never want to get a booking this way, (and no, it was NOT a "Showgirls" moment...) My lovely friend Megan Harvey became temporarily sidelined and asked if I'd take a booking for her. Sure! I'd love to!

Turns out the booking is two and a half days guiding and team teaching for the US Ski Team's Powder Girls, a group of women who make a donation to the US ski team and then get to ski with four retired gold medal athletes (Picabo Street, Donna Weinbrechet, Caroline LaLieve, and Jonna Mendez) and four instructors from Aspen Mountain!

Yesterday, I team taught with Caroline LaLieve, and Donna Weinbrecht. First of all, WOW. Second of all, Donna can ski ANY terrain at incredible speed with incredible precision. Katherine Fleck organizes this amazing group of women, and I had the good fortune to be teaching the hard charging group.

What a ride! More later with photos and links for more information if any of YOU would like to ski with the Athletes next year!

Ethan skis in his first ever torchlight parade! Aspen mountain WinterSkol!

Tonight was an absolute treat. Ethan and I drove over to Aspen Mountain and went down into the empty locker room. we suited up and headed over to the chair at the Little Nell where Ethan was given a torch shaped flashlight. ("Aw, mom, I want something that lights on fire.")

Apparently you have to be 12 to have something that lights on fire. We were the second ones up on the chair, and suddenly, here I am sitting in the dark, swinging in the crisp winter air, bundled up next to my eight year old, skis on, no poles, just looking around and seeing the town fall away behind us.

Riding a chairlift in the dark is a wonderful and strange experience, and doing it with Ethan was a sudden moment of bliss. He tucked right in next to me, suddenly a combination of big kid (gonna ski Aspen Mountain at night) and little boy (tiny and warm under my arm.)

"Mom, this is so cool I can't believe we are doing this." he kept saying. We got up to the top, and he settled right down, he was one of six or so kids who skied in the parade, the youngest of whom was only six years old!" We had the requisite fifteen minutes of waiting around at the top and then the torches got passed around, we were up in the front and suddenly we are off, two leaders, then me, then Ethan, and then John Fayhee, a wonderful instructor from Aspen Mountain right behind him.

I was a little nervous, the Nell is a steepish blue groomer, it was pitch black and we are skiing in a huge snake with things on fire all around us. Ethan, once again, impressed me with his ability to get it together when it really counts. He followed the line perfectly, even over the ice (in a giant death wedge, but he said he is used to sliding and was never worried), and as we crested the hill, about five hundred people let out a huge yell.

We skied it down to the bottom and put out our torches, and put up our skis. The crowd was high fiving Ethan, and asking him how old he was, and he was just absolutely full of pride. We got to stand inside the barricade and watch the huge fireworks display in our ski gear, and then troop back down to the locker room carrying our skis, getting congratulated by the crowd once again. Ethan was just saying over and over, "I can't believe how COOL that was! Lets do EVERY parade there is!"

This was truly one of those moments where you get to feel, I am sharing something I love most in the world with someone I love most in the world, and they are loving it! It was a wonderful, amazing, magical night in Aspen!

Acceptance includes letting it be this good.

When I was younger, I spent a lot of time waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew that however good something was, the hurt that would follow would be equal and opposite, and I guarded against feeling that hurt. I felt, at that time, like the hurt was punishment for me indulging in what had felt good. Yes. I was Catholic. What's your point?

What I didn't realize at the time was that I was spending enough of my energy knowing that pain was coming, that I could never live clearly in the present.

Tonight, Bodhi projectile vomited all over me. We are packed into a small bedroom right now, making it work, and my twin bed is on the floor next to the bottom bunk. He has the stomach flu and hasn't thrown up in two days, we were planing that he would ski tomorrow. He hit me in the face from three feet away in his sleep.

My beautiful friend Alissa came in, having heard the retching from her room, and got right to work, wetting towels and wringing them out, bringing in garbage bags and hauling soiled linens out. We got Bodhi cleaned up and transfered into my remade bed and did a thorough scrubbing of his bed and the floor.

For some reason after that, we were both wide awake in the middle of the night, and we wandered out and made some tea, and got to chatting about life.

We were talking about my mom deciding to move here, and what an incredible gift that is for all of us, and I told Alisa that I felt like it was another door opening on my path. And then I had this little epiphany that things have changed materially for me in the last fifteen years in the way that I view the world, and how I move through it. Now, I knew that had been happening, because it was a purposeful focus, but it was interesting to try to share in words how differently I felt now.

Amy has said to me, "Wherever you are is right where you need to be to learn the lesson that you need to learn. And where you need to be is not always pleasant or comfortable." I love these words, they have helped me clearly open the door to the mantra, "Where is the lesson" when things are difficult. And right now, things are difficult.

I feel that I needed to learn to be willing to face the thing that scared me the most before my mom could be part of my path. I had to decide that I wanted something more from my life, even though it was scary to my ex. I had to decide that I was going to stand on my own two feet and trust myself. I had to decide that i could be enough for my boys, that I could earn enough, and I had to decide that I could live in an apartment without a TV or all their toys and that that could be enough for them, as well. That us together without the destractions that I couldn't afford would be enough. That books from the library and sharing a small space would be not only enough, but good for all of us.

I had to decide that it was okay that I drive a truck with no windows, and bald tires and a transmition that is falling out, although i was worried about how to get the kids around, because I won't drive them in that truck. And then my friend Alissa agreed to come make it work with me, and I thought,this is good. This is how lots of people do it. You make do with what you have. My mom told me stories of her and her seven siblings growing up during the war, and how things got tight, and they got creative, and ended up sharing a room, and raising chickens in their attic to pay the bills. Is it ideal? No. Did she get close to her sisters and her mom and learn the value of a dollar and an incredible work ethic? yes.

This could be a blessing. This could be the lesson. A lesson I enjoyed learning when I was in Nepal. That this this enough. That we need each other more than we need our stuff. That left to their own devices, kids will get a paper and pen and make up a game and play it sitting on my lap. That hot chocolate makes a great desert, that its valued when its a treat we make together.

I had to face a lot fo fear, fear of failure, fear of being alone, fear of inadiquacy, and I felt very naked. And I had to let go of that fear actively over the first two months that i was here. I remember calling my mom in tears on my way home from Target one night. The kids were coming for Christmas. I wanted them to have a room that they felt like was their room, that felt like it was set up for them, so they would feel continuity between their old, large home with a huge dedicated playroom full of thousands of dollars of toys, and this cozy little cabin in the woods. I called my mom and I cried because I could afford to buy a bookshelf for the bedroom, but i couldn't afford to put anything on it. I was afraid the kids would come here and not be happy because they didn't have all their things.

And in the past I might have borrowed money or used a credit card to do what I thought was necessary, but when I moved out away from Tom, I decided that this was a chance to live with integrity, to begin clean in a place where I felt like I could be proud to be me without apologizing for who I was. And part of who I was was very poor. And so I had to sit with the fear that i wouldn't be enough. And I talked with mike, who has been through this himself. He had a great house in Red Lodge. He made the choice to live more humbly so he could be financially responsible. In the process, he taught his kids to love to play the guitar to fill their time, to be outside, to be creative, to be a family. I was scared. He thought I'd be fine.

And we were. The kids didn't miss their stuff. We had books from the library and a few toys that they'd brought with them, and no television. They haven't asked to watch a movie since they got here. They don't' see the TV so it doesn't even occur to them. They engage themselves in all kinds of creative pursuits, and we are rich in our relationships, even though we are in a tiny house.

I feel like I had to do a lot of letting go to get here. I had to let go of my idea of the perfect home through the boys eyes, I had to let go of worry about what people would think if I drove a truck with a cardboard window (I got a tailgate, thanks to Uncle Charlie, but the hinge didn't match, and now I'm not in a place where I have the time to get it fixed), I had to let go of thinking I needed my mom, that I couldn't do it alone, I had to let go of the things I believed that Tom had said about me and my capabilities. I had to just trust, and be flexible, and fluid, and open to the lesson as often as I could be.

And when i let go, my mom asked me if I'd like her to live here. And she found a place on the ranch that is twice the size of this one, with a dishwasher and a washer and dryer and microwave, and I'd grown accustomed to living lean and rustic and it was enough. And I think, because it was enough, for me and for the boys, becuase I know we would have been fine, working through it and taking care of each other, another avenue opened up.

I'm booked more than I thought I'd be. I was able to take myself off the schedule for both my massage jobs, because I am splitting rent with my mom and Alissa, who wore capes with the boys the other day playing bats. I still drive a truck with a cardboard window, but I n o longer feel like one day, that's going to change. I feel like that is changing. I've paid off my credit card. I bought the boys new snow boots and a new coat. I got Bodhi some new skis and boots, and Ethan got poles today. They hgave ski passes and lessons, they are in the chess club and theater. This all costs money. But there are groceries on the table and the rent is paid. No, we don't go out to dinner or the movies, yes, I have one pair of bluejeans, and not enough money to drive down valley. But this is changing. Now. not sometime in the future when I graduate, but now, as a result of the last three years of hard work.

There's not a light at the end of the tunnel, we are standing in the light. And the other shoe dropping is just part of that life, its the lesson that needs to be learned in that moment. And now, rather than waiting for it to drop and the repercussions to reverberate through my life and wreak havoc, I look for that shoe in the form of a lesson, see it's opportunity, and am grateful.

I'm teaching women's clinics in Aspen!

Dates to come soon! What topics would you like? Comment here or email me at kate howe (at) mac (dot) com (all one word) to help get this first round set up!

Steeps? Bumps? The Pucker Factor? Would you like one day or three? Would you like to all split a couple of condos and make your trip cheaper and more group bonding? Would you like to do things together at night?

Lets put it together!

Looking forward to skiing with you all!

Kate

Its not about the container.

I have had the unique pleasure of living in a very nice five bedroom house in a small town outside Monrovia, California. It was lovely. It had a Bacheldor fireplace, and three mature oak trees, an Avocado grove, and an 85 year old wysteria. I've lived in a couple of large old homes in Palo Alto, California, and I've lived for a short time in a dirt floored house in Nepal, and in a trailer turned modular home in LaBufadora, Mexico. I've stayed with friends in their 30 million dollar homes, and stayed with friends in their trailers.

Today, I had the unique pleasure of skiing with a very insightful guy, and I was trying to explain why I don't think that the container that you live in is what defines your wealth. I was stumbling around my words, and this is what he said.

"I've spent time in the Motel 6 and in the presidential suite at a five star hotel. I've had some of the best nights of my life in the Motel Six and some of the worst nights in the five star hotel. Ive also had some of the best nights at the five star, and some of the worst at the Motel 6. Money doesn't determine that. Money is neutral."

Its true. When I was in Nepal, I realized one afternoon that I was happy. There was a dirt floor, a picnic table, and a stove with an open fire that vented through a hole in the ceiling. We had one deck of cards and some paper and pen to play with. It was enough.

I vowed that I would remember that when I came back to LA, because I was ashamed of how attached I'd become to my comforts, to the amount of money it took to live "Tollerably" in Pasadena. And of course, over time, it waned.

But one thing I knew was that I wasn't happy. Things were good, our business was good, our kids were good, but the house, the container, the money didn't make me happy.

I think wealth comes from what is inside the container. And I've finally had a chance to test this theory. That living frugally, with less stuff, less toys, no TV, but with dedication to the thing that feeds my soul, and sharing this passion for the outdoors with my family, makes me wealthy.

I see it in action with Mike. He made a bold decision when he left his hometown of Redlodge. He lives a frugal existence, choosing not to have a huge mortgage, and to save his money for things like ski passes and a canoe, trips in sea kayaks, camping weekends. Because of this, he is richer then most people I've met who have all the material needs they could want.

Don't get me wrong. Money makes it easier to facilitate living your dream. But I contend that its not the first thing, nor the most important thing to have in order to live your dream.

There is something to the lessons that we teach our children when we have to make a choice, no cable bill, no television, good food, skiing in the back yard and swimming every day. The money goes to the swim center, not to the cable bill. The kdis grow strong and independant, able to make healthy choices in their lives. The kids, in the absence of television, bond to each other, and to their family, thinking creatively every night for something to do all together, rather than defaulting to screen time.

Its true, the new tailgate's hinge didn't match, so I am still without a window in my truck. I've gotten two paychecks now, so I'm starting to climb out of the financial hole I lived in for so long. But part of those paychecks, no matter how small they are, belong to the wealth of my family. And that wealth begins with the connection of the people living in the container, not in getting a nicer container.

So we save it, and we spend it on new skis for Bodhi, a new winter coat with a hood for Ethan, new snow boots for both of them, so they are equipped to make the strong choice to go play outside, even if its wet and cold. In making this choice, they learn that they have more choice than they thought! More options, they play together, they play with me, they play with their grandma, they play with other kids that make the same choice, to be and live and exist in their world outside.

Suddenly, I'm rich. And so is Mike. Someday, we'll have money, too. Until then, I'm wealthy with love.

Requesting your help.

If you have read this blog, and it has touched or encouraged you, please contact me at kate howe (at) mac (dot) com (all one word). I could use your help on a project!

Thanks!
Kate

I'm Inclined Toward Weems...

So yesterday, I went over to Snowmass to ski with Weems and try to sort out why I couldn't stand in the middle of my ski during a short turn, and why it had such an inconsistent top.

As Squatty says, I was juggling too many balls in the air at once.

Weems and I chated on the chair on the way up about everything but skiing, and when we got to the top, he asked what I was working on.

"Rotating my femurs into the turn to get on an earlier edge."

"Okay, lets see it." he said.

Off we went. Mach Chicken down to the Big Burn. I was talking my way through every turn, and just couldn't take the line he was on. I know that when you change your skiing it gets ugly and falls apart right before it comes back together, and I was trying to be patient for that part. But I was frustrated. I don't like feeling scared of speed. And I want to feel like I'm in the middle of my ski more often!

We chatted on the next chair. "I think you turn your legs just fine. But you are over your skis. You need to be more inside the turnand aligned." It was a bit longer than that, but that's the jist of it. I'd spent so much time trying to stop dumping my hip and so much time reducing my tip lead, that I'd climbed back on top of my skis. I was massively over angulated, again, (Josh Spuhler and Mike Hickey have been trying to get me to understand that angles develop naturally for years...), but I couldn't do anything about it because I was getting all my edge from angulation.

Weems said, "Follow me" and away we went again, I let myself go inside, but asked myself to stay straight, and had the most bizarre and exciting sensations of the ski bending, but my head was in the center of the circle and it was playing funny games with my equilibrium. "Okay, now let your head and shoulders level but let everything else stay lined up over the foot."

Suddenly, my hand is scraping the snow, but I'm not kinked at the waist. for the bottom 2/3 of the turn, I have a stable platform, and I'm in the middle of the ski. But I still don't have a short turn, and I still don't have a reliable top.

I tell Weems this. He fixes my arms again, they are too far out, and I lean back to compensate, and he tells me to push my outside ski back at the top of every turn, instead of extending.

Suddenly, I have a top. A solid top. Suddenly, I can stand on my right ski. Suddenly, I can feel the tip of the ski curling back toward me as my obliques curl in toward it. I can fee counter developing, and I can let go of the turn early, because the next one has a top.

I chase Weems again, fast. Fast. SO fast. Faster than I've skied before. And I'm fine. I'm not scared, I'm happy, because I'm in the middle of the ski. And there is a consistent platform at the top of every turn. It's there in short turns, only every third turn, but its there. An hour and a half, and my skiing is completely different. My understanding of what it feels like to ski has shifted radically.

I have no idea where it will go from here, but I know that now, I can find the top, and stand on it, without it sliding out from under me and biting at the apex. I found the beginning of what will become my turn. I ski back down to the mall singing... because its possible. She can be taught.

Ethan and Bodhi rock Aspen Elementary!

Holy Smokes what a day. The kids started school today, and I was a bit nervous for them. Bodhi has been having some trouble at his old school, but in the last two weeks, they've just been blossoming.

Visit Aspen Elementary and Bodhi's class HERE.

Bodhi is suddenly loosing his fear, hes learning to swim, hes putting his head under the water, he's making friends, he's going to sleep by himself, he's not throwing tantrums or crying... he's able to switch tasks, he's just softening and flowing with life. Its amazing to see. Ethan wasn't struggling as much, but he was having some of his own focus issues, and those seem to be smoothing as well.

Today, I was nervous. I was worried that if there was going to be a tantrum, it would be today. I was sure there would be big fear, and if there had been, it would be okay. But the kids were excited to go to school. We walked up to Aspen Elementary, which is built in a bunch of pods around a small central hub, so there are seven second grade classes, and six kindergarten classes, all of 15 to 20 kids max. It feels like a small school inside and out, which is lovely.

When we were walking up the hill, there were what looked like a hundred kids or so outside all lined up by class, and the bell rang. When it rang, they all broke out in cheers! I was shocked! Ethan got this huge grin on his face and he said, "Well, SOMEONE is excited to go to school!" And Bodhi started pointing out kids that were excited.

It reminded me of the Richard Scarry story where Huckle Cat lives in the country and they build a house next door. All through the story, Huckle wonders who is going to move in next door to him, and at the end of the story, the Rabbit family (Stitches the Tailor) moves in with all 800 kids and all their bikes. And Huckle was never lonely again.

We walked into the school and the principal gave us big smiles and led us over to Bodhi's class. We walked through the computer lab, (the boys were all oooo aaaaa about it, its very nice...) and the walls of the school are just covered in all this amazing and colorful art work... and we walked up to Bodhi's classroom, and there was a sign hanging by the door, a HUGE sign, that the kids had made, that said "Welcome Bodhi!" He was amazed. His teacher, Ms. Jill came out, and Bodhi instantly fell in love with her. He walked into the class room, and this lovely classmate came up and said, "Bodhi, can I show you your locker?"

The class room was beautiful, homey, and the cubbies reminded me a lot of Middle Creek, where Bodhi has been the most comfortable so far. He's in the same class as our little friend Cooper, so he had a friend already when he started. Bodhi immediately started putting his things in his locker, enjoying the process of moving in, and turned and said, "Bye, mom!" to me. That was it. I looked up and saw the Thunder Bowl run where we do all our early morning training right outside his window. I could literally ski to the edge of the campus and walk across the football field to say hi to him.

"Hey Bodhi. If you miss me, look up there at that ski run. I'm probably one of the skiers on it during the day!" He cracked a huge grin.

"Cool!" and he was off, into the class, comfortable and happier than I've seen him in a new setting in a long time.

Next we were off to Ethan's class room, where there was another huge sign for him, and the kids were SUPER excited to see him. They pulled him into the classroom and showed him his locker and took him to his seat, surrounding him and making him feel welcome and happy. He was so involved, he didn't even turn around to say good bye.

I went up and skied a few runs in the Highlands bowl with Katie, Megan, Georgie and Cindy Lou, had some hot cocoa and headed back down for early release. My mom had picked the kids up (thanks, mom!) and we hung out talking about school for a while. Bodhi told me that his teacher was the best teacher ever, and that he had three new friends. Spanish class was a huge hit. Ethan was super happy as well, citing recess as the only boring part of the day. (Hes a fan of learning.)

Later in the afternoon, he sat down and did his whole week's homework, and we made a deal that we'll do our homework together, I'll study my ski books and they'll do their homework while Safta makes dinner. Speaking of dinner, over dinner tonight, the kids asked if they could be in the drama club and the chess club, which is open to all ages, so that's their Wednesday and Friday activity. Ski on Saturday!

The kids were in bed and zonked out by 8, and Bodhi was speaking Spanish as he fell asleep. For real. He was talking about his water bottle.

What an amazing feeling to know that they are happy, safe, secure, and absolutely blossoming in this environment!

Reality Check: Do I live in Kate Land?

Alright. Monday was the first day on snow for the group of people who are training to try out for the Demo team in 2012. It was an awesome day, super specific, and we went out there to delve into ideas pertaining to rotation and rotary skills.

We wanted to know what we believed about rotary, what was ideal, what was real, and if any of us could execute specifically. It was a very productive day to go deep into one idea, and we had a very open forum.

We started with side-slips, the hockey slides, then pivot slips. In the afternoon session, we took what we'd learned in the low end maneuvers and looked at short radius reaching turns and short swing turns.

To be honest, I got a little distracted from the theoretical, and technical conversation, and started focusing on my specific task of changing my skiing, trying to stay open to the ideas all around me.

I've spent so much time trying to turn my legs independently under a pelvis that is facing open down the hill that I've lost the task. My upper and lower body were completely separate, and I was very much on my uphill foot.

So while the group delved into ideals of rotary, I listened, but started asking some questions about the task itself, even though for our purposes, the task was supposed to be a vehicle for the discussion.

I got some great feedback, and I found a through line into my short turns from my pivot slips. Megan had me connect my torso to the activity again, bringing my body actively into the task in a quiet, but effective way. Will had me think of the pivot as a retraction turn, and Josh had me do it independently, so I'm retracting the downhill leg while pressuring the uphill leg, pretty much what I'm working on in short turns, not extending off both.

I've been through the two legged extension issue a couple of times, and it creeps back into my skiing, frustratingly enough.

Earlier in the season, I skied with Weems, and he had told me that I wasn't inside the turn enough. I had been working so hard on not dumping and on reducing my tip lead that I'd climbed right back onto my skis and was once again massively over angulated.

The combination of all of those things led to short turns in the afternoon that felt snappy, but that STILL don't have a top. Megan and Schanzy asked me to begin the turn not with an edging move, but with a rotation of the femur to the inside of the turn. I did this, and the ski hooked up a lot higher, but my knees were not loving it. I was getting rocked for and aft, although I was finally bending the ski.

The primary focus of the start of every turn was "rotate IN", which was followed by "EXTEND!" then "SOFTEN!" then "ROTATE IN!". It was happening occasionally, but I was rarely aligned well enough to get the ski to bend predictably, or for the edge to be there for me to trust at the top of the turn. It felt like a huge crap shoot to get the ski to bend reliably, and therefore I was scared.

I wanted to trust it, I wanted to stand on it, but it just wasn't reliably biting at the top of every turn, I'd step on it and it would push the ski away from me, hooking up at the apex and accelerating me into the back seat.

I felt change happen, but I had one of those moments where I was worried that the synthesis of everything I needed to do to make this turn happen would take weeks and weeks of integration work.

I got very single minded, as focused as I could on pulling these pieces together with the rotation being the driving ideal. But it was hit and miss.

We went down to watch the video and I was not really super psyched at what I saw. Everything improved on each run, for sure, and I got a nice compliment on my ability to make change in my skiing, but sitting there and watching just how far I am from where I need to be was disheartening to say the least.

I wondered, as the talk swirled around me, if I was insane to try this. Did I belong in this room? I feel like I have something to offer, but I know that on this day, my need to bring my skill up superceeded my ability to contribute well to the technical conversation. And I know it will again and again, because that's where I am and what I need.

At the end of the meeting, I took Megan aside. "Megan, can I ask you a question? Do you think I can do this? I mean, really?"

I needed to ask. I don't want to be in a world where people are like, "Humor her. She's insane, but its fun to watch." I need the hard answers. Megan took me seriously. "Yes, you can do this. You might not make the regional team by next year, but you can petition your way into Nationals. It will be hard. A lot of hard work. But you have the talent to do this, Kate."

She wasn't bullshitting me. She made some recommendations, such as going to Rossi Race Camp rather than Academy this year, and going to Chile next fall to train for a few weeks.

I came home feeling a bit shell shocked. I knew I had a long way to go. But for some reason, I thought I'd get a small breather this season in the intensity of my training. My mom looked at me when I came in the door.

"What's up honey?"

"Mom, I feel like I've been avidly reading a book for three years and I just found out I'm on page two of a 22,000 page book. I have to rededicate. I have to completely focus on this, or I'm not going to make it."

"Well, you can't do that without help. That's why I'm moving here. Go do it. What did Megan say?"

"She said I could do it. She said it would be hard."

"Then go do it honey. That's why I'm here. Go get your ski books out and do your homework every night with Ethan and Bodhi. Go train. I'll be here with the kids. I'll help you."

I stood there, realizing one more time how incredibly blessed I am to have a mom who is willing to give me this gift. Because she is here, my rent is cheap, my home is comfortable, my kids have a consistent stable heart to hug, I can go to Movement Analysis and team training and lectures a few evenings a week. I can be with my kids in the morning and after school and on those few nights a week, she can put them to bed, and it doesn't cost me $60 or $80 every night that I need to do that.

Because of my mom, I can actually pursue this. I can dedicate myself to my kids and my goal, while making enough money to care for my kids.

I texted Weems. "What time tomorrow?" Time for me to go learn to bend my ski.

reality check

So yesterday was the first day of training for those of us who are trying out of the national team in 2012. And while I know this is a very long shot and I've got a long way to go, spending four hours doing pivot slips with these guys rocked my world in a whole new way. I feel like I've been reading for three years and I'm on page two of a 22,000 page book! But I haven't lost heart. I've looked in the box and I have a deeper understanding of what I have to do. More to come. Right now I'm in my way to my guru to go rotate the crap out of my femurs and bend the ski! Now!

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So my Kids are here, Thriving and LOVING life

Its amazing. Its absolutely wonderful. And my mom has decided to move here permanently. And so, there you have it. We are moving all together into this beautiful cabin called The Ponds here on the ranch, there are kids Ethan and Bodhi's age who live downstairs, they all ride the bus together to school.

Three huge bedrooms, washer dryer, dishwasher, huge kitchen, a deck, and a private pond with a beach. A kids paradise.

Ethan and Bodhi are thriving, we've had minimal behavior problems, Bodhi has stopped saying he's scared, they've been sledding at the ARC, swimming in the river there, skiing with Powder Pandas, and on a playdate with a kid in Bodhi's new kindergarten class so he'll have a built in friend when he starts school on Tuesday.

They are both super excited to go to school at Aspen Elementary, which everyone raves about as an outstanding school, although they are a tiny bit nervous. Tonight, they started chanting "School! School! School!" in their room, having got each other all psyched up.

They are going to bed by themselves most nights now, and getting up and ready quickly and happily. They are adapting so very well to life here, its amazing, more than I could have hoped for to see them grow and smile and play outside. I don't own a TV and they don't miss it. Tonight they played cards together until dinner, they draw pictures or build with their Legos. There is SO much less argument and drama, and SUCH a tight family loving feeling without television or movies. Its awesome.

We are still working out how the actual eventual parenting plan will work out, but for now, the kids are thriving, and I'm happy to see it. We've fallen into a great routine, I'm up early and my mom comes over, but I'm done between noon and four depending on the client, so I'm home early. I've been meeting them at the ARC a couple of days to go swimming, and you should SEE Bodhi teaching himself to swim in the lazy river! WOW!

Its wonderful to have a full six hours or more with them a day, and on the days that I have an evening meeting, my mom is ready and willing to give them love and snuggles galore. How do I tell you how grateful I am that they can grow up here, and have her in their lives? Their cautious fear is disappearing, their adventurous spirits are emerging, and they are stepping beautifully into life! Yes!

First Day of Demo Team Tryout Training!

Oh my god its happening. Today, I drove to Highlands, where I sat in a conference room with about 15 people who are all planning to try out for the 2012 PSIA National Alpine Demonstration Team. This is why I came here.

Led by the passion of Josh Fogg and Jim Schanzenberger, we have launched our Aspen Ski School Demo Team Training Team, a group of people that want to do what it takes, whatever it takes, to become the best candidates we can be for the 2012 team.

I didn't expect training to start in the ski school until next season, and when I got the email that we were going to start, I was just beside myself. Three whole seasons of dedicated training. Three seasons to get my feet there. Three seasons to hone my eye and get my technical knowledge deeeeeep deep deep.

Tonight, I had the same sensation that I had when I first walked in to the Olympic Training Center in Lake Arrowhead and they handed me my schedule for the next day. I was sort of shocked, I just got here, and wow, look there's eight hours of skating and workouts and training starting tomorrow. We aren't screwing around here. Lets get to work.

The amazing thing about the meeting tonight is that this is the first time that I've been a member, a peer, part of the group that is going for the common goal, and not an observer, coach, or a person who is going to try out next time. This is it.

Today marked the starting point of my own journey towards my own tryout. And I'm psyched. I want to be a part of this team, this mission, to put together a group of skiers that not only meet but exceed any standard. To push our knowledge and understanding deeper than everyone else does, to create a core of instructors who are so solid, flexible, mutable, who have a depth of knowledge and a love of the sport and an ability to play while getting it done at the highest level possible.

I also found out that I have to try out for the regional team next year! GULP! That means I have two seasons to get my feet there. Usually, the regional tryouts are the January before the national tryouts. Not this time. They are next April. Ready feet?

So here is my timeline: I'm applying to be a Diamond Pro this year, I'm trying to get my Trainer Passport filled out completely this year, and I'm going to try to complete my PSIA Trainer as well. This way I can go to E1 selection next year for Examiner tryouts before Regional Team Tryouts, and then I have the third year to focus solely on the Demo Team. We'll see if those things happen, the important thing is learning each step thoroughly and not passing on to the next until I own the one I'm on. I'm not interested in fast tracking, I'm interested in dedicated learning, in consuming knowledge and in voraciously applying it to my skiing and teaching, analyzing the results, and doing it again.

And here I was thinking that this year would be a mellow year between my 3 and my Trainer where I just worked on my skiing and assimilated into the Aspen Ski School. Not so. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Hitting the history books, its time to fill in the holes in my education and get my feet smart and hot.

Ready? The adventure begins TODAY! Stay tuned, our first on-snow session is tomorrow!

Wait Until Everything is Perfect, THEN Live Your Life!

I was talking with a friend of mine the other day. He is excited to become a writer, and he's very talented. He told me that he'd been walking along Maroon Creek Road and he'd come across a man and fallen into conversation with him. This man was a writer, and he told my friend that he lived in a little house with no running water and no bathroom on the edge of the river, where he did nothing but write every day. He'd written several screen plays and several novels, and lived that sort of idyllic, idyosynchratic life of the eccentric writer.

I thought about this as I walked down to the laundry room to get on the internet and write a post. I thought about how many times in my life I'd pictured what things could be like if they were perfect.

A lot of us thing that once the house is clean, we can sit down and write that story we've always meant to, or once the lawn is mowed, we can spend some time playing with the kids, or once the laundry is done, we can finally read that book that's been gathering dust on the side table.

And that once we make our money, and we have enough in savings, we can do the thing we were meant to do.

I don't think that life is meant to be like that. I think that life is passing us by at warp speed. And I think that how you reach for the things you wish for in life, every day, is what living life is about.

If you wait to write the great American novel until you've paid all your bills, "succeeded", you have six months of savings, your kids room is clean and you've caught up on the laundry, and you have a roast in the oven, or until you have succeeded in life in the way that society thinks you aught, so you've proven that you can, and then, with your savings, you buy a second home and spend three months in your cabin by the river, at which time, you will uncork your creativity and let your passion flow, you are missing your life.

It sure would be nice to be independently wealthy and be able to afford that little piece of property, and take some time out of your life to do the creative thing that you wish you could do for a living. But I think if you wait for that day, you will be waiting for a very, very long time.

And that's not to say that you should just chuck it all and go live in that cabin by the stream with no bathroom and no running water. That's to say that nows as good a time as any to stick your toe in.

What would happen if you let the laundry go for one more day and indulged yourself in an hour of journaling? What would happen if you decided that your "perfect writer's den" was the kitchen table, and the soundtrack of your peace and quiet was your children playing with Legos?

I think about this when I think of skiing as well... we search for the perfect turn, and sometimes, we hang on to our old turn because we love the safety and security of it so much... we are so sure that the next one will be the good one if we can just hang on to this one long enough and get ready, be totally and completely prepared for that next turn, and by the time we've triple checked everything, we've missed our opportunity, the next turn has come and gone, there's a tree in the way and its time to make a drastic, quick move to avoid catastrophe.

What if, in life, as in skiing, we let each "should have" go as the turn passes us, what if we kept moving into the future, reaching for what was working, and letting the ski glide under our bodies, letting the snow spray, letting the sun hit our faces, what if we let the pen glide under our hands and the knitting needles fly at the strangest times, in the most inopportune moments, because we don't care about the time and place being right, we care more about living.

What if we fell in love even though it seemed like a ridiculous thing to do? I missed you guys. Its good to be back. Thanks for waiting for me.

Much love,
Kate

Merry Christmas everyone!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Merry Christmas! Posting will resume

Merry Christmas! Posting will resume soon! Interntet is coming to my house today! Its been a lonng process. Thanks for your patience! Have a bea

Go Big With Your Heart: How Will it Work?

So the second part to this story takes us to Colorado. Where I've moved. I've been living here for two months without ANY of my five kids, or Mike. Its been hard on all of us. My kids miss me, they miss Mike, and they miss Mike's kids. I miss all of them, my heart is in Bozeman and in Whitefish, and I spend a LOT of time on the phone with Ethan and Bodhi and Mike and his kids.

And its just not enough. Because I love them all fiercely. It was hard, we have hit a few big bumps. We took a few steps back along the way to make sure that what we were doing was smart, healthy and right. Its tough to be in a long distance relationship. We split up for a few days a couple of weeks ago. And we both realized in those few days that what we have is worth any distance.

Mike is up for a great International Medicine job. If he gets this job, he'll be around the world in Africa every other month. If I make the demo team, I'm going to travel 60 days out of the year. We are just right for each other. And if we are going to make this work, we have to be completely dedicated to its success.

We have to be willing to go big with our hearts. To commit. To huck. To make a soft space for the other to land. Mike met me in Bozeman over the Thanksgiving holiday to help me drive my stuff down to Aspen, and to see this crazy world I live in. To meet my friends, my trainers, and to look at the schools and the ranch. Because we don't know how this is going to work, but we know we need to eventually be together, we are opening all the doors we can. That includes Mike looking at what it would be like for he and his kids to possibly live in Aspen one day. That includes me looking at Whitefish for the summers at least.

Its complicated. People don't believe it will work. But we have chosen not to plot the finish. We have chosen to be dedicated to growing our family, our love, our relationship, and trusting that the path will open that will allow our family of seven to be together one day.

To do that, Mike and I worked hard during the week he was here to learn what triggers or concerns each of us had. There has to be a huge amount of trust, and both of us have been hurt badly in the past. And we've hurt others.

Here is what we came up with: Its our job to respect the position of our other. In other words, Its my job to "hold space" for Mike. Not like "How would Mike feel if he were here?" But he is here. Always. In this space that I hold for him.

And so, part of my job is to make sure that people know that I'm with Mike. That I respect that position, and that I need the help of the people in my life to respect that position as well. And I think this is where lots of us fall down.

I can put it out there, "I have a boyfriend." And if a guy chooses to flirt with me anyway, well that's his problem, not mine. But that's not entirely accurate. Because my job in this case is to not only respect Mike's position, but to make sure that others respect it too. And if they don't I have the choice of either making sure that they do, or removing myself. Because someone who is not going to respect the fact that I am with Mike is not respecting me.

And Mike is doing the same thing in Whitefish. And in this way, we stay connected. We feel connected. So far, it has worked well. We have worked through some tough jealous times, a feeling that neither of us likes to have. But we both want the same thing. We want a strong, healthy, brave, loving, patient family. We want a family that feels like a nest. And that example for our kids starts with us.

So we are willing to do what is hard. Because even though we don't get to hug and smile and play together right now, our hearts are still connected. I feel those kids in Whitefish. I miss them terribly. Just like I miss my kids in Bozeman. But we will be together soon, and when we are, it is truly magic like none I've ever felt.

Michael, I'm grateful for you. I want to see your light shine as bright as it can shine. And I want to help you make our kids' lights shine like highbeams across the wild. Thank you for your bravery and your love. You make me feel like I can fly.

Go Big With Your Heart: How we met.

A lot of people ask me how this is going to work. How in the world are Mike and I going to be a couple when he lives up near the Canadian border in Whitefish, Montana, and I live 20 hours south of him in Aspen, Colorado.

And the answer to this question, like so many others in my life is, "I don't know." I don't know how its going to work. I know that we can tackle the bumps as they come, and that it will only work if we are both totally committed to being open, communicative, and willing to work through the tough stuff.

And what's really amazing is... we are.

I want to tell you the story of how we met, because I think it sheds light on what's at stake, and on what's possible. Its worth fighting for, for sure.

Mike has been reading my blog for about a year and a half. He knew that I was a performance coach, and he's an ambitious, energetic, athletic guy who wanted to do "it" better. So he emailed me off my blog and asked for some coaching. I was psyched, as you all know, money is tight, and every gig helps. I love to coach, and so coaching someone over the internet seemed like a great plan.

We emailed back and forth a few times, but we both got busy and our schedules didn't mesh up. Eventually, he made a friend request of me on Facebook, and I remember looking through his photos. All his pictures are of him outside with his kids, outside skiing or climbing, taking rescue courses, or working at the Pheriche Aid Station in Nepal (one of my favorite places on the planet).

I remember seeing a picture of his eldest son, Cyrus, hanging out of his tent, with wild hair and a big smile, and I remember a picture of all three of his kids hanging all over him and laughing outside. I thought to myself, man, this is the kind of thing that I want. Not this man, because that would be silly, but someday, I hope to find a love like this, someone who is strong and can take his kids outside and be with them and be patient and happy, be close, and bonded and adventurous, and teach my kids with me to live a life outside, full and free and happy.

I remember thinking to myself that he looked a little bit like a Patagonia catalogue, and that its dangerous to dream, to wish, to think you see what you want. "Oh, Kate." I thought to myself. "Don't wish for what you can't have. That's not how it works out for you." And so, I erased him. From my memory. Completely.

About four months later, I was healing from a broken heart, and I sat down and I wrote a list. I wrote what I wanted in my relationships. Not a physical description, because that just doesn't matter to me. But what kind of person. My list went something like this:

"I want someone who is not afraid to love. I want someone who wants to go big with his heart, who is excited, psyched to be with me. I want to be with someone who loves my kids as much as they love me. I want to be with someone who is psyched to see me fly, who puts wind in MY sails, and who lets me put wind in his as well. I want to be with someone who wants to live a life of wild adventure, but to whom love is the baseline that drives that adventure. I want to be with someone who wants to live outside, who wants to help me teach my kids to live outside, I want someone who cares about art and books and music, I want someone who can play in the snow and in the water and who can sleep outside...." The list went on and on like this.

I looked at my list when I was done writing, and realized, wow. I am going to be single for a very long time. And I was okay with that. I felt peace with that decision, because I finally knew and acknowledged that I didn't want anything less than that. I want a big love. I want a big family. And I'm not willing to have less than that.

I should have written "But in five or six months." at the bottom.

Four days later, I was answering my Facebook email, which is woefully neglected. I had four emails from some guy, Michael, which were one month apart exactly. Who was this guy? He had sent me a link from some singer, Lisa Hannigan, thinking I might like the style of one of her songs... and I had listened to it previously, and liked the music, but I hadn't actually LISTENED to it. The song was called "I'd like to meet you.". You can listen to it here while you roll your eyes at me.

I was trying to figure out who this guy was... his last email had said, "I'm bummed you are leaving the state." and I thought, I don't even know who you are, why would you be bummed? So I clicked on his profile, and I realized... HEY, this was that coaching client guy! This is the camping guy! I remembered seeing a photo where he was looking at the camera, maybe doing dishes on a camping trip, and I remember seeing myself behind the camera, and seeing my kids in the picture with him, and I remember thinking, wow, Kate. That's wishful thinking, and that's not healthy.

I emailed him back. I answered all four of his emails about ten minutes apart, and I asked him, "Am I going to meet you?" wondering why he would be bummed I was leaving if I didn't even know him...

The next morning, I got an email, "My flight vest was rumbling all the way to Spokane..." Apparently, he's a flight paramedic. He flies around in a helicopter rescuing people in remote and urgent situations and taking them to hospital care. Yeah, I know. Okay. Heroic. His flight vest was rumbling because he was getting my emails. And he was glad they were all from me.

And thus began 48 hours of mad texting. And then I thought, this is insane. I don't know this guy. How do I know what he's like? He could wear socks with his teevas for all I know. He could be a serial killer. You decide which is worse.

Finally, I told him, after being completely twitterpated for two days, "I can't do this. I can't flirt with you and be swept off my feet by a man I don't know. I know NOTHING about you! And you know nothing about me, and I can't ask your friends, hey, what's Mike like?" I was stuck. I've never been in a situation where I wasn't friends with someone first and then grown into a relationship with them.

And so, after being the recipient of such texts as "I want to plant food with you, I want to dance with you, I want to sit with our bare feet in the grass together at the edge of the river and watch our kids play..." (Are you reading this out of a book? Really? How can you be brave enough to say these things to me?... oh wait... I asked for this. I wrote down what I wanted. I want someone who is not afraid to love, not afraid to say how he feels, who is willing to take risks, who loves me passionately... shit. I asked for this and now I'm scared of it and I'm running away...) I balked.

"Hey, I'm going camping with my kids on Friday. Want to come?" he asked me.

"Sure." I said. (What? Really? Well, there were some other folks up in Whitefish we could camp with, so it would be safe, but on the other hand, what would be worse than being stuck all weekend with some wierd guy who I didn't hit it off with? Was I insane? Part of me was already feeling like I was in love with him, could that even be possible?

I told my sister. "I'm going camping with this guy..." of course, she thought I was certifiable.

"Kate. You can't do this. You can't go camping with a total stranger with your kids. No." I told this to Mike.

"Hey, my sister is very protective of me, and she might have something here... I need to listen to her. I'm not sure I should go."

"Can I talk to your sister?" he asked me. Sure. I gave him her number.

An hour or so later, she called me back. What could they POSSIBLY have been talking about for that long?

"Okay. If you DON'T go camping with this guy, I'm never talking to you again." WHAT? Really?

And so it was decided. We'd leave in two days. Let the mad texting begin again. We packed our stuff. Ethan and Bodhi and I drove with our dog, Wya, to Rocky Creak in Valley of the Moon. We got there before they did. Just before I lost cell service, I got a text. "I've never wanted to tell a woman that I've never met that I love her before..." Oh my god. I'm either insane, or he is, or this isn't possible or real, or I'm perhaps the luckiest woman to ever walk the earth. You choose.

There was another family already there when we arrived, and the kids ran around playing together while the us grownups attempted to put up the tent and get all ready. I was having trouble concentrating for some reason... and he was late. Very late. And I thought, oh, my god, he's not coming.

Finally I let go and settled down and had a glass of wine around the campfire with our neighbors. I was worried that my kids wouldn't get along with Mike's kids. I mean, his eldest was almost thirteen. My youngest was not yet six. What are a thirteen year old and a five year old going to have in common? I could just see the teenager rolling his eyes and saying, "Oh, this is soooo lame, Dad..." and longing for his x box... a nighmare was about to ensue, i was sure of it.

And then up the road came this old beat up Land Cruiser. Oh, wow. Of course, he drives a super sexy truck. And its covered in gear racks that are all beat to hell, because he uses them. And then he pulls up, and we are all walking across the campsite towards him, and his kids get out. And they are amazing. And Cyrus, the eldest, walks right up to me, and introduces himself with a big smile, and so does Ethan, Mike's Ethan, who is a bit shyer, but very warm, and my Ethan walks right up, "Hi, I'm Ethan, and this is Bodhi, want to see the forrest?" and all four kids take off into the forrest with both dogs running after them. And there I am standing by myself. Mike is watching from the truck, he hasn't got out yet. And I think, well, gee, that was easy. I can see the kids from here, they are holding hands. For real.

I look at the truck. I'm scared, I'm excited, I don't know what to think. I don't know this person at all. But he knows me. "I know the you you show to the world through your blog, Kate. But I want to know all of you. I want to know the you that you don't show to anyone else." Oh my god. Hes going to hold me accountable. He can see right through me. And he stands up, and of course, even though I loved him already and it wouldn't have mattered, he's beautiful. He's tall and blonde and blue eyed and kind. I can feel kindness and caring radiating from him from where I stand, rooted to the spot. He closes the distance between us.

"There you are." he says, looking into my eyes, holding my face in his hands. "Where have you been?"

I just stand there. I don't know what to do with everything I am feeling. I look into the woods, the kids are running around in the trees, oblivious to me and my heart which has fallen out of my body and right into this man's hands.

"Why don't you sit down?" he asks me.

"Ok." I say, and I sort of collapse on the boulder behind me. Mike goes back to his truck and reaches into the driver's seat and brings out a bag of raspberries. (I promise you, I'm not making this up. This all really happened.)

"I picked these raspberries in my garden this morning and I've been waiting all day to feed them to you." For real. He says this. He kneels down in the dirt at my feet and begins to feed me raspberries. And I'm thinking, "I made him up, I made him up there's no way this is real, how did he get here?"

And the weekend continues like this, he plays his guitar with his son, they sing me songs together. Mike plays to Ethan and Bodhi, the boys all play together. We make good food together, we swim in the river together, we have little adventures and big adventures. Its like we've always been a family. The boys are dirty and happy, we play hard for three days, we are irrevocably and completely compatible. We are careful to let the love show, but not to confuse the kids. Mike asks if he can hold my hand, and the moment he does, I can't let go of his. He is gentle. He is respectful. He is patient with his kids and mine. Together, we are all very happy. Its a happiness that none of us have felt in a long time. Its a happiness of getting what you dreamed was possible, but knowing that it was improbable.

And the weekend comes to a close. And I am supposed to leave for India in 30 days and then move to Aspen. His kids ask me, "Do you really have to go?"

At the end of the weekend, Ethan asks me if Mike is going to be my boyfriend. I ask him what he thinks about that. His face breaks out in a huge smile. "YEAH! Yes mom, YES!" and Bodhi is nodding and smiling. Something that was broken is healing here.

That weekend, Ethan caught a snake with his bare hands and Bodhi built a spider web out of climbing rope. The big boys built a slackline and went fishing. And Mike and I fed them and cared for them, and he played me music and looked at me in the starlight. "You are having trouble with this, aren't you?" he asked me.

"Yes." I told him. Because I believe in honesty.

"Can you look at me and tell me you deserve to be happy, Kate?"

I couldn't. I couldn't believe he could know me so well to know that I was struggling, and know why it was that I was struggling. "I deserve to be happy" I whispered, without looking at him. My life is so full, I have so much, wishing and wanting a love like this seems greedy.

"I think you should tell me you deserve to be happy. The way you really feel about it. Don't you want to be happy?" I looked at him. The tears came, I couldn't stop them. He brushed them with his thumb.

"I deserve to be happy." I said, looking into his eyes.

Needless to say, I didn't go to India for my Ayurvedic training. Mike will possibly be in Nepal again this June, I'll go to India then while he's there. We spent the next three months camping every weekend with the kids. On the river, at the resivoir. We took my mom with us, and she fell in love with the family, and they fell in love with her. On the second trip, I got to meet Mikes amazing and beautiful daughter, Marley.

And here's the thing. I've always wanted a huge family. Five skaters and I'll be the goalie, I always said. But I couldn't do it in my previous life, it just wasn't possible to have any more kids. The strain of two on my marriage was hard enough. I was a little sad about that, but I had accepted it and let go of the idea.

And suddenly, here they are. 13, 11, 9, 8, and 6. Five kids. One girl. A tribe. A tribe that meshed on its own with no force or will, just open love, from the very first day.

And lots of people told me that it was too good to be true, that it couldn't last. And it was certainly amazingly overwhelming to both of us. And going at it kind of "backwards" being an instantly integrated family and then getting to know each other certainly had its challenges.

But I got to see my kids blossom and open and grow, they loved to be with the big boys, and the big boys seemed to love to have someone to mentor. And Marley was finally a big sister, and I had someone to do girl stuff with. Bliss. Bliss worth fighting for.

Teaching at Mach Chicken (that's one past Plaid...)

I took my Level 3, (or "Full Cert") for the first time at the end of my second season of skiing and teaching. I was excited to see where I was compared to the bar, and I didn't really expect to pass.

I passed the teaching portion with room to spare, but I didn't pass the skiing. I came pretty close, though!

Michael Hickey, my coach at the time, told me, "Kate, be careful, you don't want to pass your Full Cert unless you feel confident that you could get hired at any resort in the country, and they could give you any client, and you could take that client anywhere on any mountain and teach them and ski with them."

I took these words to heart, but I didn't really appreciate their impact until the beginning of this week.

I passed my full cert at the end of my third season teaching and skiing, last April. This year, I moved to Aspen Mountain, and on Monday, I had my very first lesson there. Now, Aspen Mountain is one of the oldest and most respected ski schools in the world, and I am a full cert instructor there. So I should be able to take anyone that comes into the ski school and work with them anywhere on the mountain.

As a rookie, I expected my first lesson to be someone that was not a ski instructors dream, but no. Right off the top, first lesson, third day on skis, I got thrown some amazing work off the desk. My clients wanted to ski top to bottom gondola runs as FAST as they could, through bumps, powder, over groomers, off cat tracks, through the trees and off the backside. We did eight laps by lunch. EIGHT. It took 17 minutes to ride the gondola and 2 and a half to ski down.

I don't know that I've ever skied that fast for that long. Not even chasing Troy Nedved and Josh Sphuler around Big Sky. I was grateful for Jill Imsand and Christine Bakker, who got me skiing at Mach Chicken (as Dave O says... that's one past Plaid...) through the skied out crud last year. I was grateful for Chris Jones in the bumps, and I was grateful most of all that I hadn't passed my three the year before, because I never would have survived this lesson had it been a year ago!

The best part was, they wanted me to teach! But they didn't want to slow down. So not only are we SKIING at Mach Chicken, but I'm trying to TEACH at Mach Chicken! At this point, I'm really REALLY grateful for Michael Hickey and Josh teaching me to keep it concise. I had literally 30 seconds. 15 to explain what I wanted, 10 to check for understanding, 5 to reiterate, and BAM we were off, melting the snow in our wake.

Two days of this. Welcome to Aspen Mountain, Kate! Sheesh!

Can I tell you something, though? It was great, amazing, awesome fun. And I did it. I changed their skiing, I stayed on my feet, I skied respectably well (although i have a loooong way to go...) and they booked me again for when they are next in town. Yippee!

A Quick Update

Its been a very busy week. I've been going from about 5 in the morning till about 11 at night for the last seven days or so, trying to keep up with co-ordinating my training schedules at the Aspen Club, the Remede Spa, and Aspen Mountain. Everyone is training at once, and everyone has a LOT of work during the Christmas season, so I'm trying to pick up shifts, but leave lots of space for time with my family. My boys will be here in seven days! YEAH!

Setting up a house all over again is incredibly expensive. Its frustrating to have to go and buy things like mops and brooms and cleaning supplies when I already have bought all that stuff, its just up in Bozeman at the house I don't live in anymore. I know that's the reality of splitting the household, and every family that splits has to do it, but its been a loooong time since I had to restock from the ground up and MAN is it expensive!

Its been a very full week, and on top of it all, I'm sick. But I think today I'm over the hump. A half gallon of tangerine juice a day and some Chineese herbs seems to have done the trick.

The week started with moving into the new place, getting my ski school uniform, skiing hard with my rippin clients for a couple of hours, writing, getting picked up for sponsorship by Icebreaker, who will be linking to my blog (whoooppeee!) and good timing too, my only pair of long underwear looks like swiss cheese. I wore yoga pants under my ski pants yesterday...

I got to hear a lecture by Charlie MacArthur on cross discipline MA, and one by Ski Physics Guru Ron LeMaster on carving.

I got hired to write for Ski Magazine, and my article came out in Ski Racing and Telemark Skiing.

I went through training at the Aspen Club and at Remede at the St. Regis, and I began training on Aspen Mountain. I got to ski with Weems and Cindy, and we had some great talks about whats going on in my skiing, which is NOT where I left it last year.

I have about 18 hours of slow motion open parallel ahead of me... and I'm okay with that. I took the day off from training on skis today to let my body recover from this dang cold...

I have LOTS of blog posts to put up... I'm keeping little lists, but I have no internet in my house still and no cell service, either, so right now, I'm sitting in the laundry room at the ranch. To get here, I just pull on my snowboots and walk in my PJ pants under an amazingly starry sky along the creek in knee deep snow for about 150 yards. Its quite lovely, and the laundry room is quite warm and snug.

But I don't get in here often enough to hammer out the writing like I'd like to. I'll be back to a post a day (or nearly) when my internet goes in and I can post from bed!

Thanks for reading and for taking this wild ride with me!