Marco Sullivan Rocks

Posted on March 29, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Volkl skis

I spend a lot of time with ski racers. Growing up, I loved to ski for fun, but when I fell in love and married a ski racer, I had no idea what was in store for me.

It wasn’t so bad in college-he raced, and I did my thing. It didn’t much effect my life.

And then we had kids. And he taught them how to ski.

And, believe it or not, they loved it. Especially when they could ski fast and straight down the hill. Starting them on race teams was a no-brainer.

Over the years I’ve gotten used to being a race parent-the early mornings, the gear, the soggy socks, the constant supply of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and hand warmers for jacket pockets, and the equipment. The older they get, the more skis they seem to need. It’s kind of out of control.

But one thing I didn’t expect was how amazing the people would be. Ski racers are tough-and so are their parents. They don’t coplain, they work hard, and they are seriously goal driven.

And they know how to win, and how to lose.

I’ve also been amazed at how the pro racers really give back to their communities, or the sport in general. Each year my kids have had the chance to meet U.S. Ski team and Olympic ski racers, and they couldn’t be more kind, friendly and down to earth.

Marco Sullivan and mamawolfe

One of my favorites (besides Mikaela Shiffrin, who I wrote about earlier this week) is Marco Sullivan. Every year Marco comes back to his home mountain, Squaw Valley, to hang out and support racing programs. He started out just the same way my kids have-training in Tahoe, working hard, and loving the sport. He worked his way onto the U.S. Ski Team, where he’s been for the last 13 years. He competed in the Olympics in 2002 and 2010. He’s a speed skier, which means he likes to go fast and straight down the hill.

Maybe that’s why I like him so much.

Actually, I think the main reason I think Marco rocks is that he’s just such a nice, friendly guy. When the crowds were swarming Mikaela Shiffin, Marco was hanging at the finish line watching his girlfriend, Anna Goodman, who ended up winning the race. Like Mikaela, he took the time to talk to my son and me, and made me happy to think that my son looks to him as a role model.

To support Marco as he works towards his third Olympics, you can become an official Marco Sullivan fan (like me) and get his cute “Marco Rocks” hat by clicking here.

After all, who wouldn’t want to see a nice guy keep working towards his dream?

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Feeling Depleted

Posted on March 27, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’m feeling depleted. As much as the rich brown earth of my backyard garden is bursting with new green growth on the rose bushes, brilliant red and yellow tulips, and creamy white fragrant freesias, my mind and my heart are drained. Dwindling. In need of refueling.

Freesia ×hybrida Freesias Photo by Jean Tosti ...

Freesia Photo by Jean Tosti License GFDL

The last several months have depleted me, left me questioning – often those big sticklers, like, Am I really doing the job I’m meant to do, and Is this right and fair and just, and what can I do about it?

I definitely have moments of extreme despair as I watch things that I love dissolve in front of me. I’ve watched injustices before my eyes, children confused at the choices other adults have made, and I must remain painfully silent.

I don’t like to be silent. I grew out of that years ago.

As I stuff the reasons back inside, the depletion festers and stirs and sometimes erupts in rage, fear and indignation. It feels unsettled. Unfair. Sad.

My mind spins it around and around until I’m dizzy with the thought of it all. Logic, rationales and what seems to me to be ‘right’ is losing to…what is wrong. Illogical. Irrational.

My heart-it cracks. It oozes with the pain of relationships built purposefully over time, suddenly tossed into the turbulence of what someone else thinks should happen. It blends into a muddle of someone else’s perspective, someone else’s control.

The silence depletes me.

june (Photo credit: the past tends to disappear)

I tell myself that it really will be ok. That this is temporary, and in June I will breathe again. I can tell the real truth about what pushes me deeper and deeper into introspection and despair. I tell myself to listen, to watch, and to look for openings for light to shine through. I know now to look for change, for help, for a guide to lead me out of this moment and into a new space.

I tell myself to be patient, and that surely truth will show itself.

But the silence. It slows my breathing. I clutch the pillow to my chest, exhale, stretch, and really feel it. I feel it engulf me, slow me down, and surprisingly, give me a moment of hope.

My hope grows in the sunshine, in the vibrant pinks of the primrose, still fighting to share their fading beauty. It grows in the dusky red pansies planted in stone pots, their faces following the sun. And the iris, strong, tall and majestic, who remind me that beauty comes from deep within, despite the conditions.

In the silence I hear the doves calling to their partner, the dog barking in the distance, and the call from my son announcing he’s home. At least one of my questions has been answered.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Life Lessons from Mikaela Shiffrin: What a Real Winner Looks Like

Posted on March 25, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Meeting Mikaela Shiffrin, Squaw Valley, U.S. Nationals

See that boy in the red sweatshirt? That’s my son. And the girl handing him the paper? That’s Mikaela Shiffrin, the World Cup champion slalom ski racer. She’s smiling, but she just lost a ski race. My son waited and watched her with careful concentration as she made her way down the ski course. She’s not hard to miss, really. We just had to follow the little girls, tv cameras and reporters that trailed her every move.

She was full of grace, really – on and off the slalom course. This year, 18-year-old Mikaela Shiffrin won the World Cup in slalom. That’s a huge accomplishment for anyone, let alone a teenager. She’s only five years older than my son.

As soon as she crossed the finish at the U.S. National Championship races at Squaw Valley last weekend, she skied into the open arms of her fans, mostly young kids. The budding races were eager to meet her, pose for a quick photo or have her autograph something-anything, really. Helmets, speed suits, arms, sweatshirts and scraps of paper were quickly scribbled on, and then Mikaela flashed a huge smile for the best moment any young racer could hope for. She’s quite cool for 18. Barely bigger than they are, she’s small for a female ski racer-but mighty.

Ski racing is a sport against the clock. Hundredths of seconds can separate the winners from the losers. The sharper the ski edges, the wax on the skis, the split second decisions as the racers run down the course can change a first place run to last place. Intense pressure, to be sure. Mental and physical toughness are essential. Hours and hours of training result in one sixty-second run. And one guarantee: everyone falls. Including Mikaela.

In first place after the first run, she was poised to win. But that didn’t happen. In front of a crowd of thousands, she straddled a gate instead of skiing around it, and her race was over.

C and Mikaela Shiffrin

And still, she smiled. She skied into the finish area to once again sign autographs and pose with her fans. All the racers knew how she felt, the disappointment of going from first to last in one split second. All the race moms wanted to give her a hug.

And still, she smiled. TV cameras waved in her face, and she smiled.

“I think it’s most important that I just try to connect with the younger kids here. Most of them say they watch the World Cup races so I think they’ve seen the skiing and it’s probably cool to see it live. But I think the most important thing is that I get to have some time face-to-face with them and show them I’m not actually that different and that I’m a goofball. We can have conversations and they can get to this point,” she said.

She’s right. The fans didn’t care that she didn’t finish. This crowd of kids-including my son-know that she’s a real racer. She’s just like them. She’s not perfect. She falls, gets up, and does it again. Over and over. She knows there’s another race, another victory, and likely another defeat, too.

He’s still watching her, carefully. It doesn’t matter that the scoreboard shows her in last place. We can all clearly see what a winner looks like.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Karate and Calling Up the Creative Spirit

Posted on March 22, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Sitting in a karate dojo may not be the best writing environment for calling forth the creative spirit. But it’s where I am for the next hour, and time is precious. Nine black belts gather on the bright red and black mat, geared for battle with padded sticks, thick, protective gloves and head gear that rivals any major league baseball catcher’s. Silently, they listen. Quietly, I watch, my fingers clicking the keyboard in opposition to their stick staccato.

I watch the instructor lead the class through drills that require intense hand/eye coordination, quick reflexes, and serious concentration to avoid a beating. “Don’t look away-stare your opponent in the eye,” the teacher directs. My son’s cat-like reflexes make it appear effortless, but I know better. I see what’s going on behind his stare.

I envy his ability to block out all distractions and focus on one seemingly simple act of snapping a stick towards his opponent. He’s not stressed out about the English homework left behind on his desk, or the piano practice he has to do when he gets home. He throws himself into the moment, fully present for the hour of training. I’m having trouble getting in my groove. Distractions abound in this place.

For me, being fully present in my environment is essential for creating, and while I find inspiration in the world around me, today the words come slowly. The train whistle, the beat of the funk music and the chants from the students across the hall challenge my focus and complicate my thoughts. I can’t concentrate. The words swirl. I need silence. Escape.

I could walk to my car-that’s always a quiet, controlled space for me-but that’s not politically correct in the parenting world. I could put in earplugs, but then how would I follow along with the class? Perhaps I should just sit with my notebook, jotting down words, thoughts, and inspiration that comes to mind…

They’ve moved to knife defense now. The instructor carefully tosses directions to his students. Tighter grip. Looser grip. Crowd the upper arm. Don’t let him wiggle out or get his posture back. Nice and smooth. It’s not about bending your arm 90 degrees in the wrong direction.

As I gaze down at my screen, I suddenly realize what I’m doing wrong: I’m bending in the wrong direction. I’m filling my days to the brim, looking for any moment to spill my thoughts. I’m immobilizing myself, keeping a tight grip on all the parts of my day instead of keeping it smooth. I want to capture it all, to not miss a moment. I’m bent over, poorly postured, no wiggle room. I’m not present in my now. I’m the epitome of multi-tasking. I’m the sucker walking down the dark alley, unaware of the danger lurking behind me.

I’m my own worst opponent here. I’m a sure target for being taken down. I have no self-defense.

The drills stop, and the students line up for last words. Today, it’s a motivational quote. Something by Winston Churchill – maybe “Never, never, never give up.” I’m not 100% sure. I’m listening, watching, writing, and only part-way there. Maybe that’s just the quote that comes to mind-my creative muse sending me a message after all, perhaps.

I’d better listen up and learn how to get myself out of this one – before it’s too late.

More life lessons from a 13-year-old.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Let It All Go, And Flow…

Posted on March 20, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

image courtesy of freeimages.co.uk nature images

Let go of the ways you thought life
would unfold; the holding of plans
or dreams or expectations – Let it
all go. Save your strength to swim
with the tide.

The choice to fight what is here before
you now will only result in struggle,
fear, and desperate attempts to flee
from the very energy you long for.

Let go. Let it all go and flow with the
grace that washes through your days
whether you receive it gently or
with all your quills raised to defend
against invaders.

Take this on faith: the mind may never
find the explanations that it seeks, but
you will move forward nonetheless.

Let go, and the wave’s crest will carry
you to unknown shores, beyond your
wildest dreams or destinations. Let it
all go and find the place of rest and
peace, and certain transformation.

~ Danna Faulds

Jennifer Wolfe

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