Tag: skiing

Mikaela Shiffrin: An Original

Posted on February 22, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

DSC_0187 Mikaela Shiffrin (Photo credit: shiffski’13)

I don’t know what made me more nervous: watching Mikalea Shiffrin hurl down the women’s slalom course at Sochi, or watching her mom, Eileen, at the bottom of the course. While I”ve never raced a slalom course myself, I know all too well the anxiety of being a ski racer’s mom, watching your child lay it all out on the side of a mountain at high speeds. And let me tell you, it’s not an easy thing to watch.

Maybe that’s why every time I see the P&G Thank You Mom Olympics video tears start to stream down my face. I know all too well what it feels like to pick your kid up, wipe away the tears, ice the aches and pains, and start all over again the next day. Ski racing is not a sport for the faint of heart, the moderately committed child or the non-supportive parent.

I’ve written before about how impressed I am with Mikaela Shiffrin; when my son and I met her last year at Squaw Valley, she couldn’t have been more humble, gracious and down to earth. Success at a young age can certainly change a person, as we unfortunately see all too often in our celebrities like Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus, so I was curious to see how Mikaela handled not only her rise to fame, but also the incredible pressure being put on her in an already pressure-filled sport. The world saw heavily favored Russian figure skater Yulia Lipnitskaya disappointing results. We watched Yuna Kim’s stoic tears of disappointment. But whenever interviewed, Mikaela seemed to have it together – win or lose, she was focused, calm and ready for whatever comes her way.

It’s that mental toughness, I’m convinced, that pulls her and any ski racer through the tough moments-those instants when one bobble can make the difference between flying through the finish, and tumbling down the hill. It’s that extreme focus that comes from hours and months and years of preparation that show them that win or lose, there’s always another day and another race. It’s that determination that reminds young athletes that this is only the beginning.

And that mental endurance, that persistence that makes the difference between commitment and collapse, is precisely why moms like Eileen Shiffrin and thousands of other parents support their young racers. 99% of athletes will never see the fame and notoriety of those we see in the Olympics. Our children may never reach the pinnacle of their dreams. They can wake up early, lug their gear through snowstorms and down through snow, ice and rain. They can sacrifice the typical teenage experiences like proms, football games and weekend sleepovers without any guarantee of the future. But if they can end up with the ability to believe in themselves, and the belief that determination will be the vehicle to success in life, I’m happy to wait at the bottom of the course. What’s that compared to a little stomach ache, when the results can end up like this:

For a couple of years, she’s heard people calling her the next Lindsey Vonn. After the race Friday night, a Slovenian reporter called her a young Tina Maze. “It’s amazing to be compared to them and I’m honored to be compared to them but I don’t want to be the young Tina Maze or the next Lindsey Vonn,” she said. “I want to be Mikaela Shiffrin and hopefully this gold medal is going to prove that.”

That’s all the thank you I really need.

U.S. teen Shiffrin wins slalom gold (photos) (yakimaherald.com)

primark

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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I Thought I Knew What Was Best For My Kid-But He Had Other Ideas

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

Ski racing at Squaw Valley

I got a text from my 14-year-old son the other night suggesting I check ig – that’s Instagram for parents without teenagers. Intrigued, but somewhat hesitant about what I might see, I clicked over. A quick video popped up, taken from the handle of a shopping cart rolling wildly across an icy parking lot in the dark in Mammoth Lakes, California. Screams of delight pepper the soundtrack, accompanied by the comment “What a way to start off the Olympics with some of our own games #slidinanddrivin”.

Yes, my son was unsupervised, in the dark, far away from home and it made me smile. Why? Because surprisingly, it’s what’s best for my kid.

When he was born prematurely fourteen years ago, he spent the first six weeks sound asleep. Watching him snooze, all five pounds of him curled up with a smile on his face, I figured mothering a boy would be easier than I expected. I figured he would always be so sweet, calm and compliant. I figured he would spend the next eithgeen years or so waking up in the room at the end of the hall, and that if I kept the cupboards well-stocked he would be pretty happy to be home. For the most part, I figured right.

What I didn’t count on was his independent, indomitable spirit. Once again, at age thirteen, he forced me to flip through the parenting handbook of my soul and struggle to determine what was ‘best’ for him.

I never in my wildest dreams imagined that he would voluntarily move away to boarding school. I know parents who have had to send their kids away to ‘save’ them, but for my kid, the thought of not seeing his smiling face or hearing him pad down the hardwood floors on his way to the kitchen each morning left me breathless. Panicked. Terrified.

One thing I was always sure of was that I knew what was ‘best’ for my kid, and suddenly, I was stupefied with his idea that moving to Tahoe to live, learn and ski for the winter was what he thought was ‘best’. As Katrina Kenison writes, my husband and I “owed (him) the willingness, on our part, to refine and redefine our own idea of what ‘the best’ might really mean.”

It started out with really listening to him, hearing his goals, his dreams, his passion, and his rationale for wanting to leave home, leave his friends, his school, and everything familiar to take a chance on what might be. The more we listened, the more possible it seemed. So we let him take the lead, hoping that everything would work out the way it was meant to be, but ashamedly, holding out some secret hope that it wouldn’t.

We had it all planned out. He would live at home through high school, attending our alma mater just like his sister. It’s right down the street from our house, after all. He would ski on the weekends like he always had, ski race for his high school, and sleep in his own bed every night. He’d do his chores, continue his piano lessons, work hard in school and go to college. Maybe he’d even live at home until he got married…that all seemed so safe. So doable. So planned. It seemed like the best path for him – for all of us.

Jon Kabat-Zinn said that “our children drop into our neat, tightly governed lives like small, rowdy Buddhist masters,” Katrina Kenison shares in The Gift of An Ordinary Day, “each of them sent to teach us the hard lessons we most need to learn.” I think of this quote every time my stomach drops with anxiety, which happens on a daily basis lately. Relying on texting, Instagram and the occasional sc (again, for the teenage-deprived parents, that’s short for Snapchat) to get a tantalizing tidbit of his daily life is NOT what I imagined my life would be like a year ago. I don’t see his homework every night, I only hope he’s using the washing machine once in awhile, and have to trust that he’s eating his vegetables every day. I’ve released the control over his schedule to his ‘dorm parents’ and his stringent ski coach, knowing that now it is they who have his best interests in their minds each day.

My son certainly dropped into my life in the most exquisitely, incomparable, and unexpected ways. I’ve been forced to reevaluate my parenting, my expectations, and my need to control his path in life. I’ve stumbled forward, learning to trust that things will work out the way they’re supposed to, to mother by faith, and that maybe the hard lesson I need to learn is that ultimately, we are the only ones who truly know what is ‘best’ for us. All we really need to do is be willing to listen for it.

Jennifer Wolfe

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My Best Life, January 2014

Posted on January 31, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

January…the month when I feel like there are expectations galore. Although I’m not a voice for new year’s resolutions, there’s a tiny part of me that expects January to be….different.

And it was. January, in California, was DRY. Watching the rest of the nation shiver with the Polar Vortex certainly provided a certain sense of comfort and envy as my family yearned for snow. I watched my rosebushes begin to bud out in the garden, and actually wore a short sleeve shirt. January in my life required a little bit of bravery, scads of patience, and at the end, surrendering to things beyond my control.

My Best January:

Best Quotes:

One of the best parts of my day happens in the morning when I open my daily email from First Sip. This was one of my favorites-doesn’t it just ooze January?

“I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.”~ John O’Donohue

I first began reading Ida B. Wells in college; when I read this quote this month, it shouted out a reminder for my year:

“The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them.” ~ Ida B. Wells

Best Books:

January was a month of reading. Two of my favorites were A Well Tempered Heart by Jan-Philipp Sendker, a story about an American woman, a Burmese monk, and unexpected love, and Impatient With Desire by Gabrielle Burton, a fictional recounting of the Donner Party experience in 1846.

Best Recipes:

January was a busy month, and sadly, not much original cooking occurred in my kitchen. Fortunately, my daughter continued her Wednesday baking tradition with these INCREDIBLE dark chocolate brownies from The Pioneer Woman. If ever the expression ‘death by chocolate’ were applicable, this would be the time!

Best Blog Reads:

Edutopia is one of my favorite education blogs, and often times I find posts there that bleed inexorably into my ‘other’ life. This post, about teaching grit and resilience, touched me. So much of what I do as a teacher and a parent is try to encourage, support, and show kids that they can and will survive life’s challenges. I’m seeing many examples of kids giving up on themselves, and parents excusing them, because life gets hard. The idea that they’re learning this life strategy, instead of focusing on developing grit, frightens me. It’s something we all should think about.

One of the best blog posts I read in January was “A New Season”, written by Lindsey Mead for Huffington Post. I follow Lindsey’s blog, A Design So Vast, and have enjoyed getting to know her through her poignant and often times painfully realistic reflections on motherhood. Although she’s a few years behind me in parenting years, her posts never fail to remind me of the delicacy of our time with our children.

Best Photos:

My sister found this image of my girl, taken around 16 years ago. It brought tears to my eyes; I could feel her little fingers holding mine, and the sinewy hug she wrapped me in right after the photo was taken. The fleeting nature of motherhood…

17 years later, I love the woman she’s become

I’m including a video in this month’s Best Photos, simply because it captures my heart, my child, and how we spend so much of our time in the mountains-and because I was lucky enough to be at the start gate for one of his races.

Best Moments:

photo credit: Kristy Powell

January handed me several ‘parenting handbook’ moments; one of the toughest was during my daughter’s ski race. I wrote about resilience, and life lessons, and thanked a stranger for teaching her.

And of course, some joyous ones as well – ski season is off to an exciting start!

Wishing you bravery and adventure in February – and as always, thank you for supporting mamawolfe. I’d love to connect with you on Instagram and Facebook, too!

Jennifer Wolfe

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Thanks, Coach, For The Life Lessons

Posted on January 29, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

17 years later, I’m proud of the woman she’s become

Dear Coach,

We have never met in person, but we have a few things in common. First, we both spend a good amount of our time working with teenagers. Second, we both spend a good amount of time with teenagers who are ski racers. And third, because of our roles, we both make a huge impact on their lives. I’m writing you this letter (after spending two days calming myself down) to thank you for some unexpected life lessons you taught my daughter at Monday’s ski race. I’m not sure if you’ve ever met her in person either, but just in case you haven’t, here’s a little bit about her:

My daughter is just 17, a happy, strong, confident young woman on the verge of graduating from high school. She has been a skier since age 4, a racer since age 7, and has spent endless hours pursuing her passion. My daughter is one of the hardest working athletes I know; she’s sacrificed more than the average teen to excel at her sport, and as a result, she loves every minute of it. She’s even hoping to race next year in college-not because she wants to have a career in skiing, but simply because it makes her happy. My daughter is honest, kind, fair, compassionate and well liked. She’s also a great racer, and because of the mental and physical demands of ski racing, I believe she has grown to be a courageous person. In other words, she’s the kind of kid you’d like to get to know and have on your team.

Now, maybe you had an inkling of my daughter’s spirit over the last few weeks you’ve been watching her race. Or maybe not. I’m not going to second guess your actions here, or unleash my mamawolfe-instinctive-fierceness on you. I simply want to thank you for what you taught us when you threw a temper tantrum and disqualified my daughter for wearing a Go Pro camera on her helmet after she came in first place.

Thanks, Coach, for teaching my daughter that as long as we do the right things for the right reasons, we’re going to be ok. She didn’t strap that camera to her helmet and ski down the course because she was trying to do the wrong thing; in fact, she was given the camera by her coach, who after decades of coaching the high school team, didn’t have an idea that wearing a camera on her helmet would break any rules. She wasn’t trying to hide anything, she wasn’t trying to do anything wrong; in fact, she’s the kind of girl who avoids breaking rules at all costs. Had she known she could be DQed, she would have eagerly removed it. She wasn’t trying to be defiant; heck, she’s never even gotten a detention in 12 years of school! In the end, she accepted that she unknowingly broke a rule, and that since you objected, that was that. Thanks to you, Coach, at the end of the day she could look at herself in the mirror and know she was ok.

Thanks, Coach, for teaching my daughter that it’s not always about you. When she responded to my congratulatory text with the message that you had DQed her, I was shocked. I struggled to come up with words that would become a virtual hug huge enough to console her obvious disappointment, and the first thing that came to mind was to say that sometimes people do things to others because they feel vulnerable, and they project that fear onto someone they perceive as ‘below’ their chain of power. In my eyes, that’s the worst thing a teacher, coach, or parent can do. It’s bullying, it’s cowardly, and it’s a real show of poor sportsmanship. Thanks to you, Coach, she learned how that feels, and will not repeat your behavior.

Thanks, Coach, for teaching my daughter that winners aren’t always the ones who come in first. Anyone who has been around ski racing knows that if you focus on being first, 99% of the time you’ll be disappointed. Ski racing is about preparation, persistence, and perseverance. And of course, it’s nice to make the podium once in awhile, especially when you earned it fair and square. But ski racing has taught my daughter to always do her best and the results will follow. Do you know that after you DQed her (against the objection of every other coach at the race), that your racers came to her and apologized for your behavior? Those results surely don’t show up on the score board. So not only was my daughter validated by her teammates, but also yours. I sincerely hope that your lack of sportsmanship doesn’t change theirs; in my parent handbook, I’ve learned that kind words go much farther than words spoken in anger or fear. Thanks to you, Coach, she learned to hold her head high-she knows what a winner looks like.

Coach, at the end of that day, as she tried to drift off to sleep, I know she was sad. She’s only 17, and hasn’t had nearly the time to learn about life and its inevitable disappointments that you have. I know she felt loved, and safe, and that tomorrow would be a new day, and that there’s always another ski race around the corner. And I also know that one day, when this monumental experience shrivels into the minute, momentary instant in her glorious life, she’ll be able to look back and smile, and maybe even, for just an instant, wonder if you learned something, too.

With gratitude,

mamawolfe

Jennifer Wolfe

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Morning Ritual of a Ski Racer Mama

Posted on December 8, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

My nose seeks the warmth of the flannel pillowcase as I struggle between light and dark. The floorboards creak with the tread of one bolder than I.

The secure hum of the heater catches my ear, and a blast of warm air meets my cheeks. The alarm sounds its far-too-cheerful-for-this-hour melody. It’s time.

My fleece covered feet hit the pine planks of the bedroom, and I pat the down comforter in search of something, anything, to cover my flannel pajamas.

I need to learn how to program that coffee maker.

The alabaster snow catches a glint of moonlight out my window.

The staircase creaks under my feet as I descend towards the kitchen, fumbling for the buttons on the machine.

Click. Click. Click.

Blue light flickers beneath the cherry red tea kettle. Crimson mug fills with warm water to take the chill off, replaced by rich, alabaster cream and morning brew.

Savory bacon and eggs fold into warm flour tortillas with cheese as kids stumble downstairs in ski socks and fleece.

PB and J on wheat, honey crisp apples, and chewy gingersnaps fill the lunch bag for mid-day fuel. Cliff Bars slip into pockets. Boot bags bulge with gear. Speed suits stretch over strong legs, and heavy parkas with hoods zip up as we push open the door.

It’s time.

Morning ritual of a ski racer mama.

Writing reflections inspired by december prompt-a-day with writealm.com. Join us by sharing your posts on Facebook, on Twitter or Instagram using the hashtag #writealm.

Jennifer Wolfe

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My Best January:

Best Quotes:

Best Books:

Best Recipes:

Best Blog Reads:

Best Photos:

Best Moments: