A Calling for Two

A couple weeks ago, something changed.

Daylen and I were talking about our future. I let him do most of the talking, but my ears perked in thrill when I heard some specific words issuing from his mouth:

"We", "us", "our snowboarding adventure".

It is no longer Nadine's vision. Over time and growth, it's become our vision. He's fully and possibly subconsciously accepted this as his calling, too. It creates a whole different feeling behind how I think about racing or preparing. This knowledge dispelled worries I didn't even know I had: worry that I was taking over our lives with my passions, worry that Daylen would feel like a "follower" instead of my leader, and worry that I'd feel a little alone.

No longer. God's completed our team. It feels amazing.

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.

Zumba Nugget

Undoubtedly, the most common phrase a Zumba instructor hears is, "I'm not very coordinated."

Even with this knowledge, I felt the need to make the cliche excuse for myself when I entered Maria's Studio Arriba.

My employer and friend, Kathryn Finn--owner of MO Paint & Pottery--invited me to Zumba with her. I imagined entering a woman's basement where shoddy carpet lined the floor of a mirrored room. I pictured old grey-haired ladies in white lace-up shoes and flower patterned cut-off sweats. All these presuppositions set the stage for a jaw-dropping, invigorating surprise when I stepped into Studio Arriba.

A disco ball. Polished wood dance floor. A hip, all-smiles instructor who's attitude coaxed me into everlasting fun. Music so energetic it acted like puppet strings to my muscles.

Suddenly I didn't feel uncoordinated. I felt awakened. I could do anything. I felt like the energy to which my parents said, "Calm down!" as a kid was finally let loose in dance-form. As long as I didn't look in the mirror, I felt cool. As long as I watched Maria, I felt flexible and enthusiastic.

Zumba is not "working out", it's an hour of fun that happens to be a work-out. Those are the ways I love being active--rock climbing, long boarding, playing ultimate frisbee, and now Zumba. I think I've found a golden key to my preparation for snowboarding. Just another little nugget of joy that God hid in an unlikely place just for me.

Stretching Concrete

The first day of stretching.

Thirty minutes of stimulating work-out music, squinting at directions, and finagling my body into unfamiliar and painful positions. Enter epiphany:

I'm as flexible as a slab of sun-baked concrete.

The above picture is inspirational. Take that same pose and visualize her hands just past her knees. That's me. I've always been inflexible--my college gymnastics professor said I was so stiff I was like a boy (but I had power enough for a double back handspring, thank you very much! And he never complained about that). Thankfully, snowboarder cross doesn't require me to be able to do the splits or kick my leg above my head. All the same, flexibility and stretched muscles are a necessity.

My stretching plan:

1) Always start with the song, Interlude by Attack! Attack! (appropriate, don't you think?). For one reason, this song inspires me to sweat until dusk with a determined Olympic face (too bad it's only  2 minutes long). For another, Interlude means "intermission" and, in an odd sense this venture with God toward Sochi, Russia feels like a much needed intermission from other life paths I'm on.

2) Stretch three times a week. I have temporary motivation to do more than that, but I also know my habit of finking out; therefore, I must not bombard myself to the point of burnout.

3) Remember Who I'm doing this for, because my desire to honor Him (and have fun with Him) is much higher than my desire to fink out on stretches.

I never used to stretch before I snowboarded in my younger years (you know, the days when life consisted of Shocktarts on a ski lift and hot cocoa at lunch while carving the slopes from 10 to 4). I never thought of the benefit, but the more I look into the benefits of stretching, the more I know it will be a lifelong benefit, as long as I keep it up.

Go For It

When I first shared my Olympic plague with my husband, he was humored by my sporadicism, then cautious and surprised when I expressed more serious thoughts. He encouraged me to continue praying.

Prayer, I realized, is something I would need to take more seriously. It's often hard for me to remember the personal side of prayer. You know, the fact that I can say,

"God, I'm doubting you, I don't understand You, and it feels like You're on vacation."

Sometimes I think I need to pretend that I feel close to Him. 

He's not fooled. 

All this is to say that my prayer life is as stable as a teeter-totter. Recently, I've been inspired by Mark Batterson's book, The Circle Maker. He focuses on finding the promises in the Bible and praying circles around them. Promises like, 

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for peace and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:11-13

It's been fun talking to Him on a more regular basis--talking about my dryland training thoughts and my nerves about actually racing. I've found peace in sharing that sometimes I don't think this is going to work or I have more faith in my ability to catch an edge and crash than I do in His power to shake a mountain.

I spent the first several weeks researching how to start racing, who to sign up with, how much it will cost (yikes!), where we'll need to travel, and the process to making it to the Olympics (double yikes!). Occasionally I'll think, "I just want to try so I can know whether or know I could have been an Olympian." But it's just a mental excuse to comfort myself if I place last in my first race, which is also doubt in God's power.

I did not start dryland training or work-out right away (other than stretching) because I was still healing from a fairly recent concussion from a car accident (click the link for the story). Both my head and my right shoulder were trying to heal so I could get to the sweat and blood part of "training".

I shared my Olympic thoughts with one of my close friends a week after God planted the urge. I had barely asked, "What do you think?" before she replied, "Go for it".

Heartfelt. Passionate. No doubt in her voice. Go for it.

I needed to hear that sort of affirmation, but I also needed my husband's encouragement to pray. After a week of severe prayer, hours of reading, and a new-found passion for faith and God, I planted my feet firmly in the cement of decision.

I'm definitely going for it.