Tag: skiing

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A Perfect Summer Day

Posted on June 18, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

My girl’s idea of a perfect summer day

Starts in the dark, before dawn

waking up in a narrow dorm bed under well-worn covers

stumbling across the tiny room to quiet a blaring alarm

and gulping down a quick bowl of cold cereal with milk.

My girl’s idea of a perfect summer day

doesn’t involve a plan for cruising the air conditioned shopping mall

tanning by the pool in a teeny tiny bikini

or a mani-pedi with girlfriends, chatting about the latest celebrity gossip

My girl would rather pull on her red and black speed suit

knee high magenta and orange wool socks

slather her freckled face with sunscreen, hair in a messy braid

throw her pack on her back and grab her Volkls

My girl’s idea of a perfect summer day

isn’t like mine was, playing jacks on the cold linoleum kitchen floor

reading Nancy Drew in the soft grass

or dominating the world at RISK

She’s climbing high above the clouds

looking out from the edge of her world

hoping for sixty seconds of air time as she zigzags down the snowfield

wind brushing her face, bright blue eyes shining behind pink goggles

golden brown braid blowing in the wind

My girl’s idea of a perfect summer day

fills both our hearts with happiness

and gratitude

What does your perfect summer day look like?

Happier At Home: The “Safe”, Parent Approved Track

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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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

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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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Sixteen Years Old, and She Is Girl Power

Posted on March 18, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

I sat on the boot room floor early this morning, legs curled up in front of me, watching her get ready for her ski race. In between giggles with her friends and thumping on red, white and leopard print ski boots (she is my daughter, after all), she stopped and said, “You look like me right now. Curled up on the floor-that’s something I would do.”

I smiled, and thought that for the first time she has actually compared herself to me. I took it as a compliment. So rarely do I think she is anything like me at all.

So much of her life is foreign to me. Her teenage experience moves her in a world I knew nothing about at sixteen. As connected to high school as she is, I couldn’t have been further from. As much as she loves her friends, socializing, proms and rooting at football, lacrosse and basketball games, I didn’t. For her, high school is a time to be cherished; for me, it was a time I couldn’t wait to dispose of.

At sixteen I felt powerless. My parents told me I never worked to my potential, never used my intellect in a measurable manner. I didn’t even have the internet to blame for my lack of attention to school. I just simply wasn’t motivated. I remember being preoccupied with boys and dating, music, and not much else. For me, sports ended with the onset of puberty; I chose instead part-time jobs, limited class time, and had absolutely no vision of life in the future. And the funny part is that I don’t remember it really worrying me all that much.

At sixteen my daughter exudes girl power. She has everything that I didn’t, and I am in awe of her. Choosing a sport like ski racing has taught her how to accept victory and defeat, how to push her body and mind to the extreme, and she has found that instead of focusing on boys, she can pass them by on the race course.

She holds the power in her life-in the places where real power exists. Not in the alluring eyes and smooth foundation-laden skin of my youth, but in the powerful thighs, bruised biceps, and complete control she relies in to propel her down the course. She has learned to be soft and tough, as confident slipping on a revealing skin-tight speed suit as a chunky pair of sweatpants.

In sixteen years she’s learned the power of good friends; those girls who will stand by her, make her laugh until she hiccups, and hold her when she needs support. She knows the power of her convictions, for making the hard choices when it’s the right thing to do, and accepting her mistakes as they come.

She laughs, cries, and feels the frustration I remember from being sixteen. Except she looks at the future before her and knows that she will be ok. She knows she won’t have to wait until her forties until she finds her passion;

I'm just the same as I was Now don't you under... rather, she knows her passion will take her where she wants to go. Girl power.

As I spend another Sunday on the ski hill, safely nestled into a writing chair, I can’t help but smile at my girl. Her long cinnamon colored hair in a messy braid, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and surrounded by friends, my heart swells. Sixteen years and powerful. I can hardly wait to see what she does next.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Finding His Voice

Posted on March 4, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Alpine Meadows morning by Cameron Wolfe

In life, finding a voice is speaking and living the truth. Each of you is an original. Each of you has a distinctive voice.

When you find it, your story will be told. You will be heard.

–John Grisham

My kids spend a lot of early mornings on the ski hill. They often must roll out of bed, stumble to the car in the pre-dawn night, and ride for several hours to make it to early training on time. My thirteen-year-old son used to grumble about it, but this season, he goes willingly.

Ski racing is not an easy sport – there’s a huge amount of equipment to keep track of, travel at hours when most people are sleeping, dealing with weather conditions that soak you to the skin or make you feel like you’ll never be warm again, and, most difficult for me, frequent days when we’re separated as a family.

Last weekend the four of us were on two different mountains, one parent with each kid. As I was waiting for my daughter’s ski race to start, a text came through. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, hoping for an update from my son, this image popped up. I knew exactly what he was doing and feeling, and I smiled. A sense of calm settled over me, and I knew he was safe and happy doing what he loves.

When I see the world through his eyes, it frequently stops me in my tracks. So often teenagers struggle to communicate, but not this one – he is finding his voice and creating his own story.

I hear it loud and clear.

How does your child create his or her own story and find their voice?