Skiing In The Shower

The Luge Run of Death and other Whistler Adventures...

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 20:48:00 +0000

While I was up in Whistler, I had the wonderful opportunity to go out touring with Marilyn Manso, an incredible local legend who has been touring the back and side country out of whistler long enough to know every tree, shot and aspect from Flute all the way to Cowboy Ridge and probably beyond.

I love to go out touring, what a wonderful way to make a new friend and see their home, walking around on your feet in the snow. Marilyn is incredibly adventurous, not to mention stunningly beautiful, and full of laughter, love and adventure. Her heart is huge, and I knew we were going to be friends the moment she tried to steal my wineglass about five minutes after I met her.

I warned her ahead of time that I'm not the fastest person out there on AT gear. (And it turns out, she might be the fastest person out there, wow this lady is FIT.) She had no problem with that, and we made plans to go for a nice tour on the coldest day of the year in a snowstorm. Because, well, that's the day we had, and hey, I'm always up for a little adventure.

We had a chance to chat about the fact that secretly, neither of us really wanted to go out in this weather, but we had both decided to come despite the coldest wether of the season, I because if I had the chance to tour in Whistler I was not going to pass it up, even though it would probably be miserably cold, and Marilyn, because she had committed to coming. She said it well, even though she woke up and didn't want to come, she had committed to coming, and she knew that commitment would force her to have an adventure when she would otherwise stay inside.

Turns out as soon as we got out there, we skied out of the cloud and into good weather and a little warm pocket. It's always worth it, somehow.

We met up in the morning at the Wizard Grill at the Blackcomb base, where I borrowed a pair of big fat Solomon skis with Fritsche bindings to put my Alpine boots in, which at this point weigh about 15 pounds each. I was glad to get a chance to test out the new Strafe Outerwear, as its made primarily for touring.

It was so cold we ended up going in for a coffee and visiting before heading out into the wild blue yonder, which was very civilized and not at all what I'm used to. (Thinking back to 4am starts and trying to dial my system so that I'm not slow changing over, or eating, or skinning...

We headed up Symphony chair and went out the avalanche gate onto Flute, after a short 40 minute skin or so, we found what Marilyn was looking for ("My kid told me to look for the dead tree, the snow is supposed to be great".) We traversed across and found a nice long shot with just one track in it, and away we went. These were the first turns I'd made on these skis, and the powder was mid thigh deep. I was wondering what my turns would be like, I haven't done much touring in the winter, most of my touring is done in the spring and summer, so the snow is usually variable, wind slab, sun cupped, corn, avy debris refrozen, you know, all that good stuff.

It was unreal to get out there and see this long, fairly steep shot just full of joy waiting for me. Marilyn pinted the way and said, "Go for it". I hopped in and landed on a trampoline, we spent the rest of the day hunting for shots like this.

As usual, I learned a lot, a new way to apply the G3 skins, a great way to pull them off in the wind, and a recipe for the best pick me up on a cold day I've ever had. (Ginger tea, brewed with lemon, add a shot of Cointreau, drink on the summit. Yum!)

Marilyn asked me if I wanted another 20 minute skin back in bounds, or a 45 minute downhill adventure in an icy bobsled luge run. That sounded a lot like every other end of the day where you have to ski back out on the hiking trail, so I opted for the luge run.

Now, I had heard stories about Singing Pass from Brian Campbell, the master bootfitters at TopShelf Bootfitting in Whistler. Over a glass of scotch or three, he had told me some great stories about doing back out from Cowboy Ridge. "Make sure you go with someone who knows it well, because there are two or three hairpin turns, and if you aren't ready for them, wow. Away you go, eh?" Right. But, you know, people often exaggerate stuff like that. How bad could it be?

Answer: probably one of the most terrifying things I've ever done. Wow was I glad for the tiny bit of canting we had done on my boots the day before, I needed every single little bit of help I could get not to lose my edge and end up shooting off this 900 foot cliff into the huge trees below.

For 45 minutes, we skied, terrified, laughing, and constantly turning left down an off camber hiking trail, no way to stop or slow down. It was a great opportunity to practice mental performance, the consequences of a mistake were huge, giving into fear would only cause the mistake to happen, trying to slow down on ice would only over edge the ski and make it slide out from under me. It was an exercise in staying focused, present, and confident that I could do this, was doing it right, and that the consequences for not doing it right were so severe that there wasn't another option.

Staying in that place for a half hour straight was interesting, there is a boredom in the terror that develops, which has no place at all in a high stakes game. I found myself constantly waking myself up to the situation, and then managing the huge thrill of fear that immediately followed the moment of cogniscence. Oh! Shit! Is my aware that one small mistake finishes the whole deal! Do NOT let that understanding make you defensive! How do you ski ice? (That's only two feet wide, sloping toward a cliff, and constantly turning left...). Pro actively and without trying to stop. You will function with conviction and hope you guess right.

We experienced moments of relief and happiness when the bridge crossings were not iced over, we were able to stop, hike across or ski across, and look at each other. I love Marilyn's natural willingness to play, we were committed, and so we skied it. It went beyond making the best of it, and granted, she has skied it many times before (I'd say it's in the top 3 of the shape it's been in! This is great!). But something that was truly wonderful was that at no time did she waste energy wishing that the trail was other than it was.

In that place, I found a kindred spirit. She was so present, willing to be right where she was and willing to work hard to do what needed to be done in this moment, and then in the next, that we spent what could have been a scary and dangerous afternoon full of fear, playing and smiling and talking while we managed the risks at hand.

Visiting BC was so wonderful this way. Almost everyone that I met was incredibly welcoming, authentic, and happy to share their world with me. Once again, I felt every moment, so lucky to be connecting and seeing the world in another new way.

Aspen Academy Training News #3

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 00:48:00 +0000

Sarah Burke Dies from Injuries | Powder.com

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 21:33:00 +0000

Sarah Burke Dies from Injuries | Powder.com

Finding hope at the end of your rope. What I learned in Whistler, BC

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 02:49:00 +0000

Please excuse spelling and formatting issues, I'm using a new platform to blog off of my iPad, and it's a bit kludge for me still. Thank you!

This blog post is dedicated to my step grandfather, who died tonight. He was an amazing man, full of fortitude, hard work, will and strength. All of my love goes tonight to my family in Israel, and here, who loved him well and truly.

So it's been a while since my last post, holy moly Christmas season in the ski industry is a crazy thing. This season started off a little bit differently for me, because this year I get to do my favorite job, work as a trainer! Its wild to think of, all that has happened in the last six years, from learning that I loved to teach skiing, to learning who I am, to moving to Aspen, to settling in with my kids.

(My first official clinic group at Snowmass. What a wonderful day!)

There have been so many ups and downs along the way, for everyone, friends with big triumphs and with big scares. We've lost friends to avalanche and cancer, and we have friends who are fighting through both, through injury, through surgery, though family issues, and with the support of family.

(That is really in my neck. And im grateful, because i feel better. But healing takes a long time. And there are a lot of people who are healing.)

I always thought for me that there wouldn't be anything that could shake me from my path. I knew that if I could train, and focus and get strong and get my equipment sorted and my alignment done, that I'd get as far as my body and the time I have would allow me, and we'd see wherever that ended up being.

I knew that I could put my head down, I felt that I had found my career, and I felt that I would walk along my path, which would include injuries and recoveries, gain and loss, just like everyone else. I look around me at the extraordinary people who have made this their life's work, and I am inspired.

(My amazing, beautiful, inspiring and loving kiddos on Christmas morning. This year, I took three days off during Christmas. It was bliss!)

These people don't just teach skiing. They help connect people to the natural environment and, sometimes just for a moment, free them, connect them, wake them, teach them to laugh and play and see their families in a way that sometimes they can't during "normal" life.

These are people who get up at six and don't see their kids before school, go in to work to tune skis, theirs and their clients, who make sure they are well fortified for the morning because part of our job is to suppress our needs (to some extent) to the service of our clients. They eat when and how the clients do, when the clients are hungry. They ski hard all day, not just four days or eight days, but fourty days in a row. They are strong, fit, injured, recovering. They are intelligent, teachers, givers, they are passionate about their own lifestyle and about the importance of sharing the power of that life with the people who come to ski with them.

They ski no matter the snow conditions, day in and day out. Snowing, raining, wind storms, rocks, thin cover and of course, those glorious and few powder days when they are teaching on the magic carpet rather than sampling the goods themselves. This is a hard working profession full of people who give their utmost for an incredible guest experience. This is my winter family, these are my friends, mentors, the people I look to. These are professionals.

It's not that their job is so tough. It's that they do what needs to be done to be excellent for their guests. To give their guests, in the few days that they have managed to break free, as much freedom as possible. Freedom in their minds to learn, freedom from learning to play. They give themselves in order to make space for the guest to light on fire. And that takes dedication, glad dedication. Authentic happiness to give what they have to give.

In the last three weeks of doing what I love, playing with people on the snow, whether thats training instructors or working with my clients or brainstorming with folks on how to make a bigger difference, a bigger impact, I have also noticed how much pain I am in.

Im 40. I didn't really think that was going to be an issue, and maybe if I hadn't just had major spinal surgery, it wouldn't be. But in the last three weeks I have noticed... My feet really hurt. My neck and shoulders really hurt. It's hard to sleep while I'm getting stronger. Did I already pass that point? Is this a younger persons game? We went out in knee deep monkey snot the other day, and while it was fun to ski in, the foremost thought in my mind was the pain I'd be I if I fell. And I did. Not a bad fall, just a topple, but the fresh plate on my spine made its presence known, along with a message to the rest of me: falling has different consequences now. I do not come up laughing, even though I want to.

(it's never worth it to freeze your feet. But you can give a lot without putting yourself at risk. Finding the balance is what makes it incredible. The journey there takes some humility.)

Part of this job is having the fortitude to give the guest their best experience. That means you finish eating before they do, you are ready before they are, you can stay out longer and perform at your best all day no matter that it's cold, or firm, or bumpy, or rocky. Soaked to the bone or freezing your cheeks, body tired from picking kids up all day long as they fall over and over and over again. And still the will to make their day better with a cocoa and a hug and some words of encouragement in spite of the creeping numbness that you feel in your toes.

I started to wonder if maybe this year I was pushing too hard too soon after having my neck screwed back together. Fully fused, I've put the he'd work in to be released to ski, to fall, to work. But I'm not back to full strength yet. It takes about a year, I'm 15 weeks in.

My next client and good friend Peter had called and asked me how I would feel about skiing in Whistler this year, just for a change. Hed been there once before and wanted to see how the terrain would feel now tht he was a more accomishe skier. It had been twenty days of skiing with wonderful folks before him. I am so grateful for the wonderful people i get to work with, the things i learn from all different perspectives, religeons, beliefs, corners of the world, its amazing.

But i was tired. While im getting stronger, i find myself longing for a day off rather than loving the feeling of pushing through the grind. I used to thrive on the idea of pushing through to the 49th straight day. There are many many people in the locker room that go 100 days straight in boots, teaching and giving the whole time who are older and wiser than I am. But I've never been to Whistler, I love to travel, the idea of going in my coat and meeting other instructors, managers, industry folks was alluring. The idea of Peter having a measurable, quantitative difference between how he could ski before and what he could do now was exciting. I wanted to be there to see it happen.

We put it together. Ski Co did an amazing job communicating with Whistler and getting me supported to come up here on very short notice, and here we are. And it's raining in the village and snowing cement mid mountain and the top is light and fluffy and lovely. It's a new mountain, with new adventures and new friends.

(Bye bye winter family, hello new adventure)

Skiing a huge, unfamiliar mountain in low visibility in variable snow conditions, so far from ice to sush to monkey snot to powder has been exciting, fun, and... You guessed it, painful.

Part of me thought, you know, this is the best training right now, skiing through all this weird snow, In a weird uniform, where other people are looking, (because it's weird to see an unfamiliar uniform on your mountain). And I'm proud to represent Ski Co. Im so proud to work for Aspen, and to tell people on the chair, when they ask me, "Whats Aspen like?", all about our charming mining town and it's four amazing ski hills.

The Whistler crew has been incredibly welcoming, helpful, professional and wonderful. Donna Kerr, the head of the kids program, had the unfortunate good fortune of being our accidental first contact while she was wrangling 1600 kids into lessons at 9:30 in the morning. She could not have been more gracious, accommodating, calm, and friendly. It was December 29. It was madness.

Forthe next four days, she helped us find a ski tuner to help fix a bad tune, checked in that we were having a good time and finding our way around, and directed me to a reliable boot fitter, Brian at Top Shelf, because I had developed a hot spot that had turned into an angry purple bruise.

(proud to ski in my coat and represent Aspen. Glad for the pressure, it's good training, mindful of making Ski Co proud while having a good time.)

So three days ago, I was missing my kids, and my feet hurt and I was stoked to be making friends and learning a new mountain and a new town. I was excited to see another operation, to make friends in the industry, to see Blane from Gravity Logic, to just experience skiing in a way that I haven't very much, but am really excited to do, from the perspective of a traveling pro.

I was excited to be working with my client, and watching his skiing improve like crazy. I was proud of his fortitude in difficult weather, and I want to want to get after it! But there was this nagging... Maybe I am too hurt this year? Maybe I wasnt 40 until this surgery, but after it, perhaps I am. Maybe I should face reality ad see if they need some help at a desk job. Maybe it's time.

Finally, I went in to see Brian at Top Shelf Bootfitting.

(Brian from Top Shelf in Whistler checking the fit for Peter in a pair of new shoes.)

Brian willingly and skillfully helped me out, blowing out the hot spot. And Peter ended up deciding to take the plunge and to get his boots done propperly. Which is one of the most important things you can do to help your skiing out, and one of the hardest things to educate our clients on.

While Peter was going through the Bootfitting process, Brian and I started talking about this pain I've had in my feet for the last 18 years, which is getting worse. It feels exactly like a super tight rope is being pulled under my foot, forcing a toe down. And it feels like there is a very sharp knife pressing against that tight rope, just beginning to sever individual strands as the rope pulls tighter and tighter.

(Exploring the possibilities of our limits, expectations and abilities. We are so much more than we think we are.)

I've asked everyone about this, bootfitters, and foot guys and gurus and yogis, and everyone told me something different, most of which was, "sounds like you need to crack your toe".

The pain came back on this trip, out of seemingly nowhere, and it was almost the final straw. How in the world can I work hard enough to keep training my feet up if it hurts to stand still let alone steer?

"Can I ask you a question about a ligament?" I asked Brian a few days ago while he was working on Peter.

"Sure." he said. I explained the problem.

"That's a neuroma." he said, before I was even done. "I mean, I can't diagnose it, I'm not a doctor, but it sure sounds like one to me. Let's put this huge ball of foam in the middle of your foot bed and see if it fixes it."

Well, it was either that or quit skiing, so what the hell, right? "Ya, I've had patrol bring women in off the hill with this incredible pain and it takes three guys to get her boot off, she can't even stand in it. They always saying something like, it feels like there is broken glass in my boot."

I was quiet. I nodded, I thought, yes, it feels like that almost every time I put a boot on. And that one pair of heels that I can't wear any more.

I put my boot on. It felt like there was a golf ball under my foot. Half an hour later, I couldn't even feel it. And my feet didnt hurt. At all. For the first time in 18 years. They didn't hurt like they had in climbing shoes, in ice skates, in high heels or in ski boots.

(bliss in the trees in Whistler. Skiing is play and freedom and problem solving and physics and jumping and earth and sky all at once.)

We skied slush in the rain with big grins on our faces like six year old kids. We met up with our new friend Ollie from Araxi, an incredible restaurant in the Whistler Village, and skied that knee deep monkey snot. I was afraid to fall, but happy to ski. Peter was grinning and working and learning, I was struggling to give a good demo and stay on my feet to varying degrees of success, Ollie was whooping it up like any 28 year old from Lion, France would do on a "powder" day and charging at Mach schnell, occasionally bowing up in spectacular fashion, and then waiting for us to catch up with him while he re assembled himself.

It felt like skiing, there were hints of why I love my job, and how badly I want to be stout enough to handle it. I love to be in the snow all day, I love to be cold and go in for cocoa and then get back out and sit, huddled in the chair while the wind is blowing sideways, knowing that we can find a great, sheltered stash in the trees in which to play. I love to know that Peter is going to giggle and laugh and feel free and improve and be happy. And so will I. I feel like Calvin and Hobbes when I'm out skiing in the trees in bad wether. I feel alive.

(Peter, learning flag air in a tight shot off of Fitz. It's moments like this that show us how much further we might go. It's moments like this that I don't want to miss.)

So how do I reconcile? Creeping into my mind is the fact that while I am proud that I can make changes and improve my skiing is the fact that I seem to have plateaued. And I don't believe in plateaus. I have reached a set of circumstances which are a puzzle the answer to which I have not found the key yet.

And it's not for a lack of looking. I have an asymmetry in my turn that affects all of my skiing. If I concentrate on the groom, I can fix it. Essentially, on my turn to the right, I have trouble standing early and then strong on my left foot. entering my turn to the left, I am strong on my leg, but enter it torqued up and misaligned.

When I am in terrain, or I have another focus other than that, it comes back. This affects my ability to release the ski. This year, I am working on subtle movements, where am I on the ski can how soft can I be? How easily can I release the edge into the next turn? It's a year of touch. And I was starting to feel that if I can't get through this allignment issue, it's even more unlikely that my feet will get where I'd like them to be in order to participate in the job interview in April.

(a view to put it all in perspective. No hurry to rip down, skiing is as much about seeing, looking and being as it is moving and turning.)

I was at an impasse. What is want? Does it come from a selfish place? Am I being a hammer head? Am I looking at circumstances as they are and not being brave enough to say, you know what, this is too hard. I can't do it. Or I shouldnt. Or was I refusing to breathe out and look with open eyes at another way through?

Today, I woke up wondering how many more times I would pull on ski boots and why. I walked over in a glum mood to Brian's to watch him do Peter's alignment. I was lifted right off the floor with thedebilitating of watching Peters face as Brian described his skiing to him. I remembered with huge fondness the same expression on Alissa's face when the incredibly talented Brent Amsbury told her that to turn left, she probably needed a lot of speed. She looked at him like he had been following her around secretly while she was skiing, and then, the realization came, and she cried.

(the dream is as real as it always was. For all of us, i think. We all have our own mini olympics we want to reach for. How do we find our way through without sacrificing what weve built to get there?)

As Brian looked at Peters alignment and described the movement pattern that we have been trying to change for the last five days, Peters eyes got huge. And then he realized, it's not my will. It's the way my leg is lined up. And we can fix it. There is tis funny moment of joy and devastation that happens at your very first real Bootfitting experience, and I was grateful to be there yet again.

Brian graciously offered to look at my alignment at the same time. I hopped up there, wondering. Would he see something that we hadn't played with before? Brent had been working carefully with me for three years, he Found a leg length discrepancy and had done some canting, just half a degree, on my left foot years before. But I hadn't been checked out as my skiing and boots had changed, as my sensitivity and awareness had grown, as my skiing had evolved. I just couldn't get to Salt Lake with all that was going on.

(A little shop work in a very tidy shop.)

Mark Rolphus, a very talented boot guy from Aspen, had been out with me, made me some beautiful foot beds (which Brian pulled out and exclaimed over "oh, this guy clearly knows what he is doing, look at this beautiful metatarsal arch he out in here. Most guys don't know to do this..." but we just hadn't got to alignment yet.

Half a degree went under the left boot. Nothing. A full degree, my hips twisted. Around and around we went. Then, Brian put a half a degree under my right boot, too. Suddenly, I felt very very different. Still. Half a degree, thick on the inside, on both boots. Bingo. Stillness. Strength.

We did the static test. He took them out. He put them back. I could tell over time that my femur had been slightly rotated in, with my knee in a slightly unstable position, and my hips rotating just a twitch to compensate. With both the shims in, both legs felt strong, similar, and my hips were level.

(Peters moment of realization. It wasn't that he didn't have the will, or the understanding. It's that he was physically unable to make the move because his alignment was preventing it. Fix the boots, access your potential. End of story.)

We crossed our fingers and took it out onto the hill. I made three turns off the gondola and wanted to start crying. My left ski was there. Early, strong, not wondering, no concentration, it was just there. The snow got firm as we went down the mountain, Peter singing out to me, I can stand on my left foot! Me singing out to him, I can stand on mine, too!

He could move, he could steer, his fore/aft issues started settling down. Mine did too. I decided to trust it and do a set of short turns. This is the greatest exercise for finding balance issues, all your defaults show up.

Bam. Best short turns I've ever done. On firm snow with piles of wet sloped over it. Lft leg, right leg, whatever, no forward and backwards. Just turning, blissful, even, easy turning. We weren't ripping it up, it wasn't an epic powder day, but we were whooping and hollering and hugging and high fiving anyway.

And I realized, hey. There is more than one way around this maze. And sometimes, you have to go to a place where you examine deeply your motivation and willingness. Sometimes, it has to hurt a lot before you realize that you need to back up and look again with fresh eyes. I didn't want to quit. But I was telling myself that the path that continued the way I was trying to go was going to force me to quit. And tht would be the worst. To leave what I love because I couldn't find hope. It was not the right path. The right path is seldom easy, but it also doesn't have to be the hardest.

Tonight, I learned again to pick my head up and look around for another perspective. Today, I skied pain free. My clients know that I need to care take my recovery, and it's up to me to ski at a safe and reasonable pace and to manage not only their risk, but my own. Because that is the professional thing to do.

(there is a reason we are a winter family. Because we help each other through the confusing times, we hold each other up when we fall, we laugh together, we celebrate together, we live our lives from the heart. Together.)

I discovered, for now, The thing that will let me ski with them until we are folded and creased and leathered from laughing in the weather together for years and years.

I was so grateful to learn again from this path which teaches me so much more than skiing. Thank you, Winter family!

Aspen Academy News Volume 1 Issue 2

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 03:48:00 +0000

Fitness Insanity

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 04:29:00 +0000

On Tuesday, I drove to Vail to have my final check out with Dr. Corenman of Stedman Hawkins. They were really pleased and told me I am fully released, strong and fit for duty!

This meant that I could call Erik at Aspen Crossfit and tell him YES I'M READY!! (Oh, Lord, help...)

The Elements class had started on Monday, but they let me jump in the next day. I went slightly intimidated, because I've heard my friend Monique talk about doing huge Olympic Lifts and squats and all kinds of insane things that super strong, fit people do.

Elements Class getting after it!

I am not a super strong, fit person since my surgery for sure. And I was nervous after my experience carying the 8lb backpack to Highlands and laying on the couch for the whole next day about what lifting weights would be like for me.

We talked a bit about my limitations. Erik is able to modify ANY workout to be suitable, and so in I went.

We spent the evening learning the proper position for some very serious looking exercises, but we did it using PVC pipes. Erik is really specific about how our form is, and I was grateful for that, I have been known to get after it and hurt myslef. So my job is to make sure I'm paying attention and learn good form, and always use it.

I do feel like I'm being set up for success in so many ways, from being protected from injury through the very specfic graduated steps in which we are learning the exercises, to the community feel of the place.

Our first workout was about 10 minutes long, and I was quite sore the next day, surprisingly so.

Scott working hard and loving it.

I am combining Bikram Yoga daily with Crossfit three times a week to see if I can't get my strength and flexibility back heading into tryouts (should I be invited). I'm training like I'm going, regardless.

(**Update: There are four words you are not allowed to say in the crossfit gym: Can't, Should, Try and Never (I think the last one is never...) anyhow, Erik totally busted me for the above sentence and I gave him a Burpee for it.

Unreal. Burpee punishment by remote. I LOVE IT. Now if he could only follow me in the bumps and make me do a Burpee for every less than excellent turn, I'd be motivated!**)

The Aspen Crossfit gym is full of all kinds of inspirational quotes, and Erik himself is absurdly positive, a strong, fit force of positivity. You almost can't help but feel like through sheer force of will, you too will get strong, ripped, fit and happy.

I left feeling like "I can do this." and then I couldn't sleep because I was so jacked up.

I hit yoga the next day, after finding myself wishing that it was Crossfit day several times. Friday morning I woke up and thought "Crossfit today! Yay!"

Friday turned out to be one of those days that you can't believe you live through. Kurt and I skied Ruthies all morning, ripping huge turns and working on my wonkiness in my turn to the left. My legs and abs were gassed, and we tuned skis.

Sometimes I'm not so smart...

In the midst of tuning skis, my file slipped and I ripped a big gash in my wrist, all the way to the tendon. But not through it. Patrol was called, I felt like a dumbass, and he told me it was going to need stitches. Bleh! I begged him to super glue it shut, I had to go take a birthday cake to Ethan at his school and I couldn't be late.

We bandaged it up, I grabbed the cake, ran it to school, and we all celebrated Ethans DOUBLE DIGITS! Then Tom and I stopped by Bodhi's class for their holiday party, and then I headed to the Aspen Medical Center where I got four stitches, one over the tendon and three to close the gash. I finished JUST in time to head to yoga.

Kate Giampapa guides us through the Bikram series.

Got there and realized it was hot vinyassa, which means weight bearing postures on the arms. Ow. Sweated my band aid off. Packed up, showered and jumped into less soaking clothes, and headed to Crossfit. There was no way I was going to miss this.

We were learning a press, which requires you to have your wrists bent back, and burpies, which require you to fall to the floor on your hands. Great.

My legs were already toast from training in the morning with Kurt and then standing in Horse stance for about ten minutes in yoga. So the Med Ball Squat Press that we learned was BRUTAL. And awesome.

Another ten minute workout and I got in my car feeling like an athlete again. That only took a week. I came home and at a HUGE piece of fish and almost an entire tub of lettuce and then fell asleep by about 8:30.

If I feel this good, this strong, this sore, this challenged and this excited and happy after a WEEK being back in the swing of things, I can only imagine what four solid months of this will do to my body, mind and spirit.

Thank you Aspen Crossfit and Arjuna Yoga for being so amazing!!

Curate Skiing in the Shower!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 20:04:00 +0000

Curating can be FUN!

Hey, Tweeps and peeps, I'm putting a tab up just for the PSIA National Alpine Team Selection Committee on my blog of the BEST OF skiingintheshower.com. Was there a post that inspired YOU?

Help me curate the BEST OF and your name will go on the curator list!

Thanks for your help!

Beautiful candid photos of your day on the hill!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 19:25:00 +0000

Wish you could have candid shots of your day on the hill? Awesome shots of you ripping, playing with your kids, eating and apres, without needing to cary your own camera or missing the action?

Solution! Hire Liat for the day, she is outstanding at being in the right place at the right time without slowing you down or getting in your way. A fly on the wall candid look at your day on the slopes!

Check it out! aspenskiphotography.com

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From Full-Contact Commuting to Elbows-Out Mountain Biking

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 21:00:00 +0000

Guest Post by Amy DaRosa

Amy and Kurt post ride.

Amy was kind enough to write this guest post for Skiing in the Shower this summer after adventuring all over Snowmass Mountain with Kurt and I. Sorry for the long delay, but I'm excited to be sharing it with you now!

I've never considered myself a kick-ass, aggressive kind of girl, even though I have skied moguls, black diamonds and expert trails in the east and west, have lived and worked in NYC for the better part of 17 years, have worked my way up the corporate ladder and have thrown my share of elbows on the subway. So I guess my recent summertime visit to Snowmass, CO was as good a time as any to find my inner assertiveness and bring it out -- for something positive.

In advance of this house-hunting trip, my husband and I had made plans with several friends, including Kate and Kurt who I would be meeting in person for the first time. I should really call them super friends though, because I discovered that these two are up-for-almost-anything, high-achiever, technically superior, adrenaline-junkie, endurance machines of the highest order. When meeting up with them Sunday I even joked with Kate asking if she had a cape on under all that body armor.

A-hem, what??? Body armor, you ask? Yup, that's right. We were about to learn how to downhill mountain bike, which calls for body armor, helmet, gloves and a pretty awesome, fat-tired mountain bike. Safety first, folks!

So there we stood at the base of our favorite ski area, looking up at her multiple peaks donning their lush, green summer coat. I was wearing bike clothes -- the first set I had ever owned, purchased the day before -- but I felt almost naked. I usually tackled these hills when they were blanketed with snow in my very own layers of long underwear, ski pants, North Face jacket, Smart Wool socks, ski boots, glove liners, you name it.

But, the good news was we had our super friends on our side. After getting outfitted with bikes and gear, we suited up and were ready to learn the basics on flat ground. Have I mentioned I hadn't been on a bike since 1988?

Kurt talked us through and demonstrated the important stuff then had us practice and play, making corrections and encouraging us, all of which went pretty well. The bike was fun and fairly cushy with massive shock absorbers. We learned how to stand up on the pedals, lean the bike to turn and brake the right way. We were ready for our first mini-course.

Up the gondola we went. We got out at the mid-station to practice the mini-course, which was scratched out of a faintly sloped patch of dirt and grass. We pedaled and turned and stopped. Proving we were ready, we headed downhill with Kurt in the lead and Kate bringing up the rear. I shed a few tears during a scared moment, as I'm known to do, but then we kept going. They successfully coached us down our first descent -- high-fives all around! Now for the next challenge: taking the gondola to the top.

We laughed during the ride up, but I was a bit nervous. I'm not the keen bike handler that Erik (my avid road-biking husband) is, but I was still planning to go for it as best as I could. We got off the gondola, enjoyed the view, talked about the beginner trail ahead then started down. At one point Kurt suggested I brake more aggressively, which I tried to do. Feeling a bit unsure, I told him I hadn't found my inner aggression so he instead tried to get me to channel my assertiveness.

Before taking on terrain that might prove too challenging, we put our bikes down to preview a tricky portion of the course on Kurt's advice. I decided I wasn't ready for that so Kurt led me down a slightly easier path, while Erik and Kate pressed on. I was trailing behind Kurt pretty well for a little while then got spooked by a slightly more difficult turn. Many people might not have gotten spooked by this, but what can I say? As is my normal process when encountering anxiety in advance of a break-through, I shed a few more tears. Kurt was patient and supportive, helping me regain my confidence and get started again.

We met up with Erik and Kate lower down the mountain and finished up the end of the trail together. Victory! We reached the bottom with hugs and smiles -- Erik's bigger than anyone's. He was hooked and went back up for several more laps of the course with Kate. Kurt met up with another client to start his next lesson. I stopped for the day feeling proud of Erik and of myself, and thankful for our friends who now appeared more super and talented than ever! I can give myself credit for being brave, assertive and maybe even a little bit aggressive and kick-ass after all. I think I could learn to like this :)

On Fear, Choice, and Community

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 04:26:00 +0000

Okay, here's the truth. I haven't been writing much lately, not because I don't have a lot to write about, but because I'm not sure what to put up here! As I get closer to the selection process, I feel like I should share less, just in case someone finds a wart on my nose or something...

But isn't that silly? I mean, the whole point of this was to really share what the PROCESS of heading to the tryout was like, to sort of look at it from a journalistic standpoint.

So, part of the process is that over time, you realize that you are kind of in a job interview all the time. And that everything you post, to a blog, to Facebook, to Twitter, is part of that interview. Our employers have so much more access to our "non-work" faces now than they ever did.

Ethan and I explore Tiehack Terrain on opening day at Buttermilk

But I like transparency. I mean, we are all people. We all go through tough stuff. And I hope that being authentic and true and really going through this self and life examination process, and being willing to do it in a way that is NOT whitewashed, but real, is helpful for others to know that they don't have to be perfect to persue their dreams.

Martha Stewart, while she has a great banana bread recipe, is not real life. Real life is messy, and that is part of its beauty.

Its true that over the years, I've learned that some things, while interesting to write about and really difficult and scary (and therefore interesting to share; facing that moment and choosing to be honest forces a deeper introspection and more careful decision making) aren't really appropriate to share while I'm on this path. This was the irony of this choice. Part of the decision making here (and it was one of the tougher decisions) was chosing whether to stay true to the intention of the blog and share all, or to stay true to the path and begin to edit.

It took some long walks with some smart people to make the choice. So far, in every instance, over time, the path has won.

I wrote a lot about my personal relationships over the years, because my decision to go down this road affects them. I really wanted other people who were trying to examine their lives to know that they aren't alone in that issue; going to grad school puts stress on the other parent. Training for the Olympics puts stress on everyone around you because you live that training as your job 24/7 for years. This feels similar to both, but there had to be some balance that felt honest to the path, but in service of my family, who I love, and whom, without, this would all really be pointless.

I was curious about what would happen, to me, to my kids, to my romantic relationships, to my family in general. How would changing careers and then dedicating myself completely to becoming a viable candidate affect my life and my relationships? Would it be worth it? Would I find a choice that would take me off the path?

I think this was really the thing that has helped me most in my personal growth along the way, looking carefully at those decisions. And you guys have been there when I've asked "at what cost?".

When I first started this, I didn't think there really would be a large personal cost. I assumed that I'd be able to balance it all, kids, working out, skiing, relationships. After all, we had kids when we owned the rock climbing gym, and it was fine. But our paths were the same then, and we were more well financed.

Looking back over the last six years, this journey has forced me to examine my wants and desires, my personal accountability, my integrity, my will, my love and make choices all the way. And I got tired of learning lessons and making choices. I wanted sometimes to have learned the lesson and be done. But another beautiful nugget I get to take away from this journey is that really, that never stops.

It doesn't matter if you reach the goal or not. The lessons, the choices, the difficulties don't stop just because you reach your career goal. The more you listen, the more opportunities for growth are presenting them in every choice you make, every day.

And leaning into that, accepting it, welcoming it, is part of the gift. Its like that annoying friend who always speaks her mind. You can either stop being friends, or be grateful for the honesty and get something out of it. Make a positive change for good. When you live with that annoying friend, and you are tapped on the shoulder all day long, it gets tiring. But if you want to strive for excellence, shouldn't you want to be excellent in your person first, and in your career second?

This journey has seen the loss of my marriage, and then has aided us coming back together as supportive friends co parents and even housemates. Having talked extensively since Tom moved here in July, we have realized that our paths, our decisions, were the best, healthiest, and hardest things we ever did. We are better people, better parents, and better friends for what we went through. Turns out we made good decisions. I do think there is more than one right decision at most turning points. But making the hard, best decision you can make is the point.

This journey saw the uprooting of my kids, my mother quitting her life for a year to help out, near total poverty, the collapse of another relationship, the total destruction of my truck, spine surgery...

So many times, I have called my mentors, who have been in this game longer, are waaaayyyy wiser than I, in tears, asking, "Am I insane? I mean, do I really have a shot at doing this? Am I ruining my life and the life of everyone around me? Or am I creating a better life for myself and my kids because I'm being true to myself?"

This is why, I think, we need to have a really good, personal motivation that comes from a really true place, and a group of people you trust to help you out. When things got confusing, and they did, many times along the way, I needed a guiding light out of that cloud of confusion.

Bodhi, stoic, ready to drop in.

Because this journey has given me a life that is more beautiful and true than any one I could have dreamed up. It has led me to Aspen, to a group of people that feel like family. It has given me hope, and joy, and friendships that are so deep. It has challenged me to be more, to be better. It pokes at my deepest fears and begs me to let go of them. It has given my kids freedom and joy to grown and expand and learn in a way I never thought possible.

In the end, you have to make a choice. I think lots of times we miss opportunity for happiness or growth because we are afraid that growth will be uncomfortable to other people in our lives. So we chose familiarity over integrity to our souls.

And while we absolutely need to take the people in our lives into consideration, and make these choices with them, and in consideration of them, we also have to be true to ourselves. Sometimes, we have to be brave and make the hard choice.

Sometimes I wasn't sure if the hard choice was leaving the path that was shaping me, or continuing along it.

During these six years, that balance, holding that polarity, has been the biggest, hardest challenge of all. And as the tryout has gotten closer and closer, I have needed more and more from my family and support group. This is really not something you can do by yourself.

I needed help with my kids, financial support, guidance in my career choices, guidance in how to share on this blog, I needed resources, teaching, history, technical, eyes on the hill. Encouragement to run and lift and cycle and work. I needed to learn when to let go of the goal because I needed to balance family in a way that is nurturing for them, wow, I needed A LOT. (and I got one, Aunt A Lot came back from Argentina, and hugged me and said, GO KATE GO!)

Friday at 5pm was the deadline for uploading applications for consideration for the National Team Selection.

Thursday and Friday, I felt like I was being held inside a giant warm down sleeping bag of friendship. My mom was calling and texting and telling me how proud she was of me for making it this far. My sister was finishing 15 days of brutal boot packing, and she still called and offered her support. My ex husband was reading and editing my material and taking care of our kids. I re shot my video four times in the last week. This took the time and resources of four incredibly dedicated, giving people who went out of their way to help.

This wasn't due to a lack of planning, but due to a desire to really represent accurately myself to the selectors, and what I might bring should they chose to invite me.

And these people, my friends and supporters did it with such ease and grace, that I had to take the lesson about giving. I learned a lot about rallying around someone you care about and helping them achieve their dream from the people who came to my aid.

The video was reshot because one of my support group said, "Its not you. Reshoot it." I agonized over this. I had already had such support from so many, I was loathe to go back and say, "Hey, I need to do it again."

I faced that question again. In service of doing this right, really giving the best that I could, after training for six years and spending every single penny I had or made, moving my family, could I really ask for more? After leaning so hard on them through surgery, through so much...

The answer had to be yes. I respectfully requested help. Again. And here they came. Gladly. I felt lifted up, and we got it done. If I had a gazillion bucks, I'd throw the worlds greatest party for the people who have carried me here. I hope to hell I can carry many many more on their journeys. It is an amazing thing to have your team of friends rally around you.

Bodhi and Dad sharing the dream.

It came down to the wire (and I'll share that story shortly), literally to 5:00pm on the day of the deadline. But it all went up, and we all looked at each other laughing. It was over. It was up. It was in. I had actually applied for consideration for the team in 2012. But it turns out that I hadn't. We had. We did it together.

And I hope they call me in February and I get to go to the tryout. But right now, I feel like I've already met my goal. I got here. Looking back at the choices, the stresses on family and relationships, I'm grateful for the choices I made. The good and the bad. Each one taught me a lesson in balance, respect, perseverance. I learned to stand on my own to feet. I learned that I'm stronger than I thought. I learned that no one can do it alone, no matter how much they want to. I learned that its not about me at all. Its about all of us.

We are all connected, as so many before me have said. Our journeys are all the same, I think, we are all just trying to live the fullest, most fulfilling, most connected life that we can.

So in the end, I'm glad I stayed on my path. The life before me is the life I love, and I'm grateful that my kids watched me fight for it. Today, we all skied Buttermilk together on opening day. I felt like it was the culmination of six years of hard work. Yesterday, I taught my first sanctioned on snow clinic at Snowmass, my dream job.

And then, the next day, seeing my kids and their dad and aunt ripping around smiling just five minutes from our house with one clinic behind me and another one coming up tomorrow, I thought, we did it. We all did it. Together. And each of us is happier for the fight that got us here.

So to my readers, who helped me through some of those hard times over the years, thank you. Thanks for being real, honest, for having my back and pushing me hard. Thanks for holding my feet to the fire and asking me to write even when it was hard to come back.

You have been the thing that kept this train on the tracks, more than I could ever tell you.

With deep gratitude,

Kate

Aspen Academy Training News Volume1 Issue 1

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 04:43:00 +0000

I'm SUPER STOKED to share one of the things that has had me spelunking in my house for the last three weeks, the first issue of Aspen Academy training news is out! I am really honored to be editing this newsletter, which will come out bi-weekly. We got special dispensation from the Academy Training Manager to share it with the world, so here goes, enjoy it! Double click on a photo to enlarge it. Thanks for reading!

POC magaine featuring yours truly!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 21:20:00 +0000

What an Honor! This fall, I got to spend a couple of hours talking with Shelly Jones of POC magazine, and our conversation became this article in the yearly POC magazine. Click here to read the whole magazine on line!

Relief in Laguna, Ski season begins!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 07:07:00 +0000

Laguna Brothers.

Hello friends! I'm so sorry I haven't written in a while. Things are busy and good. Sooo much has happened, so here's a quick update and we'll get back to it.

I'm, what, 12 weeks out from surgery now? My neck is still sore, the muscles on the left side are achy and jumpy like crazy, and the bones are sore, too. But I'm getting stronger all the time.

"my life does NOT SUCK!"

I went through about four weeks of insomnia and some sort of random daytime narcolepsy like activity... picture driving yourself the to grocery store and suddenly needing to pull over because you have to sleep NOW. Random and weird. But that's gotten way better. And last night I slept about 14 hours which was AWESOME.

Ethan flies for the second time, and loves it.

The boys and I headed out to California to visit my amazing cousins, the Quilters, and to see my cousin Matt get married to his amazing Patty. It was a much needed respite from driving to Vail to all kinds of appointments and stresses, we went to the beach, visited with family, laid around reading Calvin and Hobbes, and the boys got to fly cousin Charlies Cessna 195, a radial engine airplane that feels exactly like you've glued wings to a VW bug and decided it would be a good idea to see how long it will stay in the air.

The season has started, I got cleared to ski the DAY BEFORE the Trainer's Training for RM PSIA in Breckenridge, and it took me five hours to drive from Aspen to Breck because I had to pull over and sleep four times on the way. Embarrassing is not the half of it. Whatever, I made it.

Bodhi finds a hero.

And I got on snow, and looked around and THERE THEY WERE! My PSIA family. A huge group of super nerdy snow geeks, just like me. We all got together and geeked out on our skiing, on each other's skiing... we talked about skiing on the hill and tried to ski in the conference room. Its what we do.

I saw so many people who inspire and excite me, and there were hugs, and there was a pub crawl, and then, more skiing! Biomechanics clinics, Movement Analysis clinics... and I thought, wow, I'm at Trainer's Training... how cool.

Ethan explains everything he understands about planes

I expected the skiing to be terrible... I mean, my skiing in particular, but it was okay. I was waaaay weaker than I expected to be, but my balance was okay. I took it easy, and slept like I'd been hit in the head with a hammer both nights after skiing. The drive home was long, fast, and I couldn't stop to sleep, because Ethan was in the Fourth Grade Play that night.

Laguna frees Bodhi

I only missed the first ten minutes of this nearly two hour production of doom. He's been talking about doing it since first grade. Its a big deal.

And then it was time for Trainer's Training for inhouse trainers in Aspen, and I was sitting in this room with about 50 other people, looking around going... huh... I've been working towards sitting in this room for five years. It was sort of shocking, and fun, and good, to be there, and just get to work. Like that's a normal thing to do, have a dream realized and just sit down and turn the page and keep moving because life is happening now!

A tour of QSC by Cousin Pat. Yes, that's a machine building the amps.

I also was lucky enough to give a presentation at ProFair, which I wrote about building trust with clients to help with repeat business. It was fun to write, and scary to give. I don't get big stage fright, generally. I get some rockin' nerves, which are nice to wake you up and pump you up, but the night before, WOW, I was staring at the ceiling until 4am. Not good! Kurt helped, he had me do a dry run for him, I made some notes and changes and off we went.

The room was full to capacity, and it was really fun. I love this topic, it was so fun to interact with my peeps, this willing audience who let me roundly abuse them with teddy bear props. Kurt sat on the counter in the back, and I let my eyes rest on him, and smiled to think it was nice he was there, part of this, and to know I could do it regardless.

Next up was a couple of newsletters that I'm working on, and my application for the teams selection process. Nine days left until applications close. I'm shooting my video tomorrow.

Ethan and Bodhi enjoy the Long Beach Aquarium

Meanwhile, I've gotten a few days of skiing in, slowly, and over the last two weeks, a lot of healing has happened. My strength is coming back, I'm not falling asleep on the way to the store any more, I've picked up my uniform, moved into my locker, and seen a bunch of old friends from the locker room.

I love this seasonal insanity, the familiarity once the mountain opens and the waiting is over, dress and ski undress and nurse feet, hug kiddos, sleep, dress and ski, undress and nurse feet... wash, rinse, repeat.

One exciting thing is that I get to take a trip to BC this year to ski with my friend Josh, who I haven't seen in years. I'm super stoked. He's a rockstar, and I've never skied up north before! In spite of the over (gulp) $120,000.00 in medical expenses I've incurred because of this car accident, I'm going to be able to take this trip! After not getting to go to Portillo or Ushuia for one reason or another, having a plane ticket in hand for BC is SUPER exciting.

That's the quick update. I hope I can get on here more often now that I'm not swimming through a haze of Dilloted and Hydromorphone and Vallium and Oxycontin... Ya, I'm not kidding, that was intense. I don't remember like four weeks of it after I got home except for some strong memories that I made a point of writing down. SOOooo glad thats over.

Happy 2011/12 ski season! Get out there and rip it up!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 22:06:00 +0000

Feel like skiing? Here's a GREAT movie by Matt and AJ Hobbs featuring all locals, made by locals. If You Want to Fly by Vital Films! Featuring Colter J. Hinchliffe and sooo much amazing local talent!

Winning Entry: The day I fell in love with my bike

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 20:57:00 +0000

Believe it or not, I got 52 entries for the writing contest: The day I fell in love with my bike.

Everyone had outstanding stories, but there was something really special about this one, and I hope you agree. Congratulations to Ron Shepard for his entry, and thanks for participating, everyone!

Ron has $140 to spend at the POC store!

A letter from an uncle to his nephew:

September 10, 2010

Dear Myles,

Along with this letter, you will find a very special toy; I hope you will enjoy it. You will have many cherished toys in your life, but somehow your bike will always be different.

Your bike is a tool for your imagination; it can be a horse, a motorcycle, a race car, or a fighter plane, and any ole’ place can become a cobblestone path on the Tour de’ France, or the rocky landscape of a distant planet.

Your bike is your first simple independence; it allows you to go places, to explore, and to venture forth. Every bike rider I know has a memorable ride from their childhood, and yours are all just ahead.

You will see that biking begins as a challenge, then an accomplishment, and then an escape. Your bike can become a conduit for un-cluttered thinking, an outlet for pent-up energy, and a form of expression; not quite like dancing, much more like flying. Learn to be your bikes care-giver (it is a wonderful thing to retire a bicycle that you have lovingly maintained), and while you practice mechanical reasoning upon it, it will teach you about physics.

Every bike rider has a moment of clarity when they sense that somehow, they became totally connected with their bicycle. Every rider also has a moment when they crash (really hard), and feel betrayed by their bicycle. You will love your old bike, and you will be inspired with each new one.

I remember teaching my son how to ride his bike, and I welcome every ride with him still. I hope your bike brings you the same opportunity for connection with your parents, and I want to remind you to take them for rides, even when you will have to slow down for them.

It may sound strange, but I think it is sort of a privilege to give a kid their first bicycle, and I hope you will share this one when you outgrow it. I look forward to when you can show me your favorite trail!

Enjoy,

Cousin Ron

Congratulations, Shannon!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 13:42:00 +0000

I found out last week that my awesome and inspirational training partner and really great friend Shannon is now the President of the NRM division of PSIA! Congratulations, Shannon! You are going to hit it out of the park!! I'm excited for you!

Its Real... I took a picture of it

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 03:34:00 +0000

I feel a bit like laying down on the floor and breathing into a paper bag. I'm choosing that instead of breaking out into hysterical laughter (I might wake up the kids). I just registered for Team Selection, like so many people have done all over the country. Each person, I imagine, no matter how many times they do it, pays the fee and hopes that the hard work and love of the sport is going to be enough.

I'm a little shocked that its here, I've been thinking about it hard for over a thousand days. When I first put the countdown up on the blog side bar, it said 1476 days to tryouts.

Now it says 169 days.

During that time, I met people who have gone through this journey over and over and over for years, and those whom they inspire. I got inspired myself, and I got to meet a lot of very interesting, genuine, authentic and passionate people who sacrifice SO much to do what they love.

I am so honored to be a part of the process, I think for me it used to feel absurd, but hopeful. Now I feel just really glad to have gone through the process even just to this point. My journey, and seeing yours, has made me feel like a part of a family.

Good luck, everyone, and no matter what happens, Academy this year is going to be OFF THE HOOK!

Sign up NOW for Alison Gannett's Rippin Chix Camp!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 01:34:00 +0000

Sign up now, space is limited! Ski steeps with four time world extreme champion Allison Gannet! Interested in skiing with me, too? Email Alison and let her know! If we get enough sign ups, I'll be travel coaching!

Sign Up HERE: AlisonGannett.com

Stand or Lean: taking your own crisis on.

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 20:15:00 +0000

Its been an interesting couple of weeks. I had surgery on my spine a few weeks ago, which was kind of tough enough. During that time, I had another unrelated traumatic event happen, which was really frightening. It put me on precarious footing while I was trying to heal. I wasn't really sure which way was up, and I found myself confused and isolated, longing for the reality of the situation to be different.

I didn't want to be in this situation, I feel like I've worked hard to get to a place where my life is relatively calm and drama free. I'm finally more financially stable, my kids are for the most part happy and comfortable, and their dad has settled into his new life well. We are all sort of trundling along, and I had found myself thinking, great! We did it!

And then the shit hit the fan. This isn't a post about the particulars of that situation, but what followed; how to wander back out of the wilderness of unexpected trauma or crisis without getting swamped. Or, if you are swamped, (I did at one point say "I'm out of my depth. This is too much."), how to find the help you need to get back on your own two feet and start walking again.

The Oogie Boogie Man - he's BACK!

There is a fine line between being needy and asking for what you need, between being held captive and defined by the crisis and facing and processing it.

I think so often when something happens, we bury it down deep, knowing that we don't want to send other people into crisis, or upset those around us that we love. Sometimes we get concerned about how our story will impact others, and so we hide it.

There are other impetus for hiding or boxing up something that happens, sometimes we think if we ignore it, it will go away, its impact, its importance, and then we can just get back to normalcy.

But that's not really how it works.

I know that looking right at the thing that happens is terrifying. I also know that its the only way to push through and heal.

When I was younger, I had PTSD from some childhood trauma. As a result, I used to see bogeymen. I was afraid of the dark. Most kids are afraid of the dark, so even if you didn't have PTSD, you can probably relate. Every once in a while our imagination gets away from us, and our anxiety about what MIGHT be, even if its terribly impractical, gets the better of us.

That's called surrendering to the contingency. Fear of what might be takes over and paralysis ensues.

This is where you stare down the thing that scares you.

And sometimes, you have to do that with some help. Sometimes the thing that scares you is just too big to be tackled alone. And I guess the next question would be, can you look for support without dragging others down with you? Can you reach out for contact and connection but still look for your own feet?

Can you own your piece of this, knowing that ultimately, the responsibility for healing is yours alone?

Can you do that without alienating and martyring yourself?

Can you find the friend that can listen and allow yourself space to process what you need to trusting that they are holding space for you? Yes, I'm talking about crying, snotting into your hankie, and making some tea. Can you let a sympathetic ear be an ear and a hug, and move forward from there?

Crisis is like a whirlpool, it wants to drag you in to the bottom, and when you are there, the weight of it can be oppressive. We often want to lay in the bottom of it and have company down there.

I guess I've been working on accepting that its okay to be in the bottom of the whirlpool, sometimes things happen in life that create crisis like that. But can I be there without letting it define me?


Ask for help. Then, try it on your own.

Can I look around and say, well, its appropriate that I'm upset and in a hard place, because I just went through something that was scary, out of the norm, something that shook me. But I don't have to live here. I need to see, with open eyes, that which is real, look right at what happened, and at the same time, let go of my personal indignation, my fear, my pain. I can take this time as an opportunity to practice acceptance instead of another obstacle placed in front of me.

When the bogeymen of my past presented themselves, I had to learn that, in the end, it was my job to dispel the myth of them. They existed because of something real and frightening, but ultimately, I had to decide if I wanted to be stuck in the box of the fact of them, or let go and move on. If I'm not willing to own my own fears and try it on my own, I'm choosing to stay right where I am.

It took a while, but I decided that when I found a place that was full of fear, my job was not to hide, turn on the light, or have someone look behind the shower curtain for me. My job was to take a deep breath, breathe out slowly, look right at the thing that scared me, and walk toward it. Into it. Through it. Out of it.

I took to walking around the house in the pitch dark on purpose, finding the longest, scariest, most circuitous route I could to wherever I was headed in order to prove to myself that my fear, no matter how real it was, no matter how honestly it was come by, should not own me.

One day, I walked to the bathroom in the middle of the night and didn't realize until I was tucking back into bed that it hadn't occurred to me to be scared. Something had shifted.

I didn't do it all alone, I had to lean, but in order to conquer it, ultimately, I had to stand alone and face the demon all by myself. I had to want to heal enough to find courage.

One of the best parts of that adventure was realizing that people who care for us don't always know how to help us best. We often impose on them the idea that they should know what we need, isn't it obvious? Something terrible happened. You should feel and act this way automatically.

I think we often forget that everyone has their own triggers and fears, their own construct defined by the life that they lived. And whatever situation we find ourselves in may very well trigger the fears and concerns of those who care for us.

It takes time, but eventually, you can walk on your own.

And they can't give you what you need unless you ask for it clearly. This is asking for what you need rather than being needy. I think neediness comes when we need help, and impose on those around us some sort of fantastic idea of how people should give to us or support us. Now you are just compounding your issue, you've been through something tough, and you are now looking for your family and friends to come to your aid in the way you most need them, but you aren't asking for what you need. You are choosing to stay in the bottom of the whirlpool, hoping someone will lay down there with you.

What a wonderful opportunity this has been to learn once again to stand on my feet and walk through the dark. Thanks to those who stood on the other side, encouraging me.

There's a way to go, but I can see you, and I'm grateful.

PS Thanks to Russ for jump starting the writing again.

Its a helluva day at sea, sir!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 23:28:00 +0000

Its been an eventful week!

Bodhi off the couch after 8 days with the croup and right back at it.

level 3 drop in "mom, I want to be a pro skateboarder"

I turned 40

Feeling a bit rebellious and bad ass I took myself and my girl Amy out sans any boys of any sort to listen to country punk rock, the "supersuckers" at the Belly Up Aspen.

Third week in Karate, learning to take em and given.

Hiking in to town, my 3rd 5 mile walk, found out that I can't handle an 8lb backpack, whoops, back on the couch watching movies. Dangit.

Buy your DH bike NOW!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 20:43:00 +0000

Winter Park is selling their old fleet, if you want to get into DH mountain biking, this is the bike to buy. These guys take METICULOUS care of their fleet, and we rode these bikes while we visited WP: sick. Just awesome.

COMES WITH a season pass for summer and you can get full body armor thrown in (including helmet)

If you just need the armor, its $100 for the full kit.

2010 - Kona Stab Deluxe Downhill Mountain Bikes For Sale: 2 meduim and 3 large, excellent condition with all new parts and pieces including – new tires, brake pads, grips , cables, seats & freshly serviced forks, new fork seals, fork fluid, brake fluid, chain and derailer adjustments! These were used by the Trestle Bike Park School Coaches / Guides and were very maintained on a weekly basis.

· $1,400 or $1,500 with a 2012 Trestle Bike Park Season Pass!
· Contact – Bob Barnes at X1561 or bbarnes@winterparkresort.com

Buy your copy of Ron Kipp's Alpine Skiing here!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 07:39:00 +0000

So, this is a wild feeling. What an wonderful three days skiing with Ron Kipp and Ron LeMaster, and Michael Rogan. I got schooled every day ,and it was too much fun and such a huge learning experience!

Thanks, you guys!

Buy your copy here, and my thanks to Tecnica/Blizzard, POC, Leki, Kjus and Icebreaker!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 03:10:00 +0000

Hardware. Feels good!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


All done, and glad for it!

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

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

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

Well, let the lessons continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Unexpected family. The best win so far.

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

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

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

Today, I turned 40.

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

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

Aspen Mountain promising fun this year!

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

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

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

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

Thanks for sharing my birthday with me!!

Pot surgical thoughts a video blog

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 23:08:00 +0000

*** really, Kate? 12 Minutes?! And I took a walk with Weems? And with Cindy? Good lord, sorry folks, I'm a rambler still... 3 weeks out I'm finally starting to make more sense***

It took an extra day for me to post it... whew! This must be what it feels like to be person who doesn't drink coffee.

Had a wonderful walk with Cindy Lou this morning. Weaning off the drugs slowly today, feeling so much better today.

Miss my KIDS like freaking CRAZY! Man that part sucks like crazy. But I was told NOT TO GET SICK while I'm healing, so damnit, I'm gonna suck it up and just sit here missing them.

Thanks to all the pioneers who did this before me, thanks for all the help and the friends and the love, more soon!

Going out for a walk now. :-)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Home from Surgery

noreply@blogger.com (Kate Howe) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 03:27:00 +0000

Alrighty then! Here we are, back home from surgery. I ended up staying in the hospital a day longer than I expected too, my first two days after surgery were great, felt strong an surprised at how good I felt (and I need to apologize to all the people who had to deal with completely unintelligible texts from me while I was trying to give "no really, I'm doing great' updates".

So I'm back in Aspen, ensconced in Kurt's house, where he's helping me keep my insane need to be outside in check. Kurt slept on the lazy boy in the hospital room for three nights even though he had a friesnds' house to stay at, an I have to say waking up to see his face, fuzzy and through the haze, sleeping right there was an incredible comfort to me.

I couldn't believe he was willing to do it, and do it night after night, and I finally slept, knowing that his care was there, and complete, an good. I felt calm and grateful, and I slept.

Dr. Corenman's team at Vail Valley Hospital was incredible, so gracious, even when they were insanely busy, they wanted to know what they could do to help me, to help Kurt, to make things easier, better, they didnt' rush us or try to get us out the door. They encouraged me to heal and helped me along the way. They cared for both of us in a patient and gracious way that was way above and beyond what I expected.

I was so happy to wake up and realize this was it, it was over. They weren't going to take me back and say "okay lets get started" again, because it was over. We'd done it.

I held it together until we checked in. Then I sat down and the tears came. I just really didn't want to be be crippled and bed ridden.

Kurt was there. Right there. His hand was on my shoulder, he let me do as much as I could on my own two feet, and when it got right up against that part where I could have pushed through, he just gently took the reigns and kept it rolling. He knew without asking what I needed, quiet and gentle, up the stairs, into the gown, into the iv, no extra coddling, no fear, no extra concern, just he was there, and so was I and so was this next thing we were going to do together.

And I went back, and he kissed me good bye, and the lights went out. That's the last I remember,

Until thinking, wow, we are done, and my throat doesn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would.

I am so grateful to have gotten this done. Does it hurt? Yup. My neck is sore and the surgery sites are swollen and oogey. But I have my hand back so far. My shoulder doesn't hurt. For the first time since 2008 I don't have a headache.

I'm caring for myself, I'm standing on my feet, but miraculously, when I need someone to do the velcro on the back of my brace, there are his strong hands, holding the back piece in place and pulling the tabs down tight. He takes long enough that I see in his hands and his eyes that he wants it done right, it is important that it heals well.

Today, Tom and Kurt and the boys and I went up Aspen Mountain (we took the gondi, Kurt hiked) and wandered around in the sun. The boys are happy to see me whole, Kurt and Tom visited and my skin drank in the Vitamin D like crazy.

Right now, I feel very blessed, very lucky, and very open. The road to recovery, the other side, has begun. (Right after this nap.)