Tightening the Training

Daylen and I sat down to re-analyze my work-out routine. Our skills combined equal something close to expertise.

He has a physical education degree and understands practically everything about which muscles need to be worked out for which movements and for how long. I grew up as an "assistant coach" to my ski racing older sister, so I know the anatomy of carving, the rules of racing, and the most important factors of a race.

Our resources are still limited to small-town Missouri, but we're not letting that stop us. I've upped Zumba to twice a week and now do pull-ups every day. Daylen is brainstorming a way to create a mock start-gate for me to practice.

It's fun. We are a team. I look forward to getting on the slopes when we go to Wyoming for Christmas. The schedule for my racing is set. First race is in Illinois on January 13th. Am I nervous? Sometimes. Am I excited? YES! I force myself to await our trip to Wyoming for Christmas when I will hit the slopes and tackle the holes in my bravery.

Daylen and I watched the entire hour and a half of the 2010 Vancouver Olympic women's boardercross races. He took notes. I just drooled. I decided it's a requirement that I watch these races every time I'm about to race. They leave me with inspiration, determination, and overwhelming excitement when I think of God taking me there! To bring you into some of this excitement with me, here is a clip of the women's boardercross final in the 2006 Olympics--the first Olympics of the boardercross sport.

New Zealand vs. Zumba

Doubt is like a ferret. Once it gets its head through an unintended opening, the rest of its body slips right on through. Perhaps that's where the phrase "weasel its way in" came from. Doubt has weaseled its way into my head over the past month. At first, I felt weak. I allowed the doubt to tell me I was failing with my faith in God. Then I started to think that God was allowing it to happen for a reason. He allowed doubt to get its hold to establish the impossibility of this Olympic goal. He spent weeks affirming that I can't do it.

The former Olympic Gold Medal boarder-cross racers recently started their new training regimen on the snowy slopes of New Zealand. I, on the other hand, respond with weekly Zumba work-outs, sporadic stretching, and riding my longboard down the sad little hills of Missouri.

When I step back and view my efforts to train for racing versus their efforts to train, my hope dwindles like a candle wick in its last inch of wax. Who am I to attempt challenging these professionals? Who am I to think I'm shooting for the Olympics? Who am I to think I have any talent at all for racing?

I'm a child of God. And I'm intimidated. When I'm intimidated, I ask the wrong questions. The right questions are:

Who is God to challenge the professionals? Who is God to push His daughter toward the Olympics? Who is God to give me talent for racing?

He's the One who created me alongside the professionals. He's the One who says, "For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways..." (Isaiah 55:8). He's the One who reminds me at dawn that I stepped forward to ask the impossible from Him.

So when I doubt, I doubt Him. When I'm intimidated, I'm allowing the enemy to win. When I fear, I have more faith in the antagonist than in my God. And I have to ask myself the following question:

Is this the mindset I want to have? If not, what am I doing to fight it?

If I'm willing to ask the impossible from God, I need to believe that impossible things can be done through me. With that being said, I'm going to stretch in preparation for my Zumba class tonight.

Family in the Know

Like a couple sharing happy baby news, my husband and I sat with my family over breakfast, growing more nervous by the minutes. It was time to share the "crazy" that had pulsed inside me for the previous month.

I felt this was necessary for many reasons. After putting me through six years of higher-education, it was only natural that my family would expect me to immediately pursue work in that field. It made more sense for a 15-year-old to go and tell Daddy she was going to be in the Olympics than a married 25-almost-26 (will be 27 by the Olympics)-year old. I was an adult. I should have known better than to do something so foolish!

But my Daddy was always the one to urge me toward my potential.

I decided to be blunt.

"So, Daylen and I have had a little more vision for a part of our future." Deep breath. The breakfast table goes silent. Expectant. Fluttering nerves. "I'm going to race snowboarding for the next year with the goal of going to the Olympics."

Stunned momentary silence. My Dad's jaw dropped in the most genuine shock I'd ever seen, Mom and her twin sister squealed "What?" in excited unison. My brother sat there in observatory calm, and my little sister laughed a little and whispered a passionate, "Yes!".

It all went better than I could have ever dreamed. Not a single rejection. Not a single challenge. In fact, my family did quite the opposite. They grew excited for me. Dad started talking about the different types of wax I could use for races, my older sister analyzed my training schedule and shared instructions for when I'd physically peak for the races, my little sister gave me an ab-workout list, and my Mom asked, "So when should we buy tickets to Russia?"

Daylen and I prayed that God would prepare their hearts. It's pretty clear to say He exceeded our request.