For the last month I’ve been anticipating this trip to Whistler to Celebrate Sarah Burke. I was not sure how it would feel to relive the emotions of such a great loss, to be reminded of this beautiful woman taken from us too soon. After 2 days dedicated to celebrating Sarah, I feel lucky to have had her in my life, even for the short 10 years that I knew her.
There seemed to be an overlying theme of the past few days that WE are the lucky ones. We were lucky enough to have had Sarah impact our lives in so many positive ways. She was a living example of chasing your dreams, setting aside fears and going for it. She showed how a smile and a laugh could uplift even the darkest of hours. She danced freely, without thought of judgment, and she judged none. Sarah lived her life, her 29 years, fully.
Instinctively I think, “I cannot believe this happened to Sarah. She had so much more to give. She was going to change the world!” and then I stop for a minute and realize, she already did. Sarah gave gifts that will keep on giving. She passed her spirit on to every one of us whose lives she touched. Seeing the group of people in Whistler, all here in Sarah’s honor, proved this. The amount of love that was emanating from every corner of the cobblestone streets in Whistler was overwhelming. She brought worlds together- one small woman, with one huge heart. We will Celebrate Sarah Forever.
(For a recap of the tribute in Whistler Village view this link.)
Skier: Kaya Turski, Photo: Jen Hudak
“Don’t run from your monsters because I hear they can heal you.” Jayson Haws
The last 3 months have been the most challenging few months of my life. Without rehashing the details, but still informing new readers, I’ll catch you up. On January 10th I sustained a severe knee injury, a season ending and career threatening injury, and that same day, my friend, greatest idol and rival sustained a life ending injury. The following weeks and months were relentless. I endured surgery on my knee as numerous friends and teammates also sustained season ending knee injuries. Another friend was caught in an avalanche that took 3 lives, hers being spared because of a life saving airbag backpack. My father has continued to battle the aftermaths of a non-optional stem-cell transplant needed to cure him of leukemia. And my mother continues to bear the stress of our entire family, while being my father’s primary caretaker. I should be broken down, unable to get out of bed, certainly not able to crack a smile. I was for a while, but I am no longer.
When life gets this hard, we often collapse. But sometimes it is within that collapse that we experience our greatest growth. I hit rock bottom around the beginning of February. I began questioning my path, what my goals and intentions were for this life, if the risks were worth taking. At first I was extremely overwhelmed, too many thoughts of the past and fears for the future were bogging me down. But then I had a realization about the importance of staying present. (I wrote about that here.) After living with the intention of staying present, I have begun to see some serious improvements in my well-being. My life hasn’t dramatically turned around but I feel more emotionally stable and happier overall.
By focusing on this, I was able to resign myself to the present moment, to let it be. I stopped keeping track of time, I stopped placing a timeline on my healing process, I stopped having expectations of where I should be. I began to accept my circumstances any given day. Living by the motto: where I am, is where I am supposed to be. I started making the best choices in every moment to encourage healing; I work as hard as I can when things feel great, and I back off when things don’t feel good. And now, I am flowing with the tides; I am no longer fighting the current.
But there was still a part of me, deep inside, that wasn’t ready to completely let go. The part of me that brought me great success in skiing, the competitor, my ego, it wasn’t ready to surrender- until yesterday. Friday morning, mid-workout, I had another epiphany. One that led me to this thought: Don’t let your dreams define you. Believe in your dreams, chase your dreams, but remember that YOU ARE NOT your dreams. My competitive spirit was afraid to let go, because of the fear of not reaching my biggest goal: Olympic GOLD. This is something that I have aspired toward for my entire life. I always saw myself as an Olympic gold medalist, before my sport was even an Olympic event. For a while, namely before my sport got added to the Olympic schedule, I wasn’t afraid to shoot for that dream. There was a buffer there, something that I could always blame my “failure” on. Hey, if my sport isn’t in the Olympics then it’s not my fault if I don’t go… My mindset changed, or at least, my emotions changed when my sport got into the Games, and after this injury I began to feel even more doubt. This “Fear of Failure” demon has been haunting my dreams, day and night.
It seems that people with big dreams all suffer through this in some way or another. We attach ourselves so thoroughly to our dreams that the idea of not reaching them makes us sick to our stomachs. Our sense-of-self feels threatened, our self-worth devalued, because we are unsure what we have to offer if we don’t reach that ultimate goal. What we are missing, and what I just realized, is that it’s the way we choose to live in each moment that defines us, not the goals or dreams we are working toward. It is the work that we are doing, not the work that is to be done, that makes us who we are. So, for the first time, I feel at peace with what I am doing. I will live with the intention of going to the Olympics. I will continue to make good choices, to try for that gold, but whoever said, “there is no such thing as try, there is either will or will not,” they lied. Trying is worth a whole lot. Trying is everything. And trying may get you to your final destination, it may land you elsewhere, but if you are doing your best every day, then I believe you will finish where you were meant to. Your value is in how you work, not simply in the work that you do. So, try to be with yourself in every moment, and feel proud to be where you are. You are on the right track.
Do not look back on what you can't change, look ahead to what you can create.
Loss: what a powerful four-letter word. Loss is one of those inevitable uncontrollables that we all, at some point or another, have or will experience. Whether it comes in the form of losing a job, your health, a loved one, or even your motivation, loss packs a punch. In a matter of two rough weeks in January, I lost all of the things that I just mentioned. On January 10th, I blew out my knee thereby losing my health and my ability to partake in my job (skiing professionally); on January 19th I lost a dear friend, my mentor and my idol, Sarah Burke. Quickly following, my motivation to return to the sport I once so loved seemed to be drifting away. I found myself entering a seemingly devastating state of hopelessness and knew I could not stay there for long.
So how do you overcome loss, grief, and the long plateau of stagnation that often accompanies these times? It is a question I asked myself repeatedly until I began to find my way out.
Last October I was in a really great place in life. I had made some changes over the preceding months that made me feel as if I could do anything, achieve anything and could live happily for the rest of my life. Reading Ekhart Tolle’s “The Power of Now” enhanced the effect that these small changes had on me. Tolle presents the concept that anxiety and guilt come about when we stop living in the “now”. That is to say, when we begin thinking of the future we rouse “what-ifs” which in turn create anxiety and stress. What if my knee doesn’t heal… What if I can’t ski again… What if my Olympic dream is now awash? Thoughts of the past create feelings of regret and guilt. If only I didn’t hit that jump… Why Sarah and not me? Neither of these thought patterns is productive since we cannot foresee the future and we cannot change what has happened in the past. We can only ever truly be in the current moment; we are where we are, NOW.
Living in the now is an easy philosophy to live by when things are going smoothly. When the present moment feels good, staying there is simple. So last October, I readily embraced this way of living. “Why bring undo stress into my life, when my current moment is going great,” I pondered. This philosophy worked then, but got drastically harder when life got harder. What if your present moment is not pleasant? What if it is filled with constant reminders about what your life “used to be like” but no longer is? (Like when I could walk and run with ease.) When your “now” is filled with pain, how can you tolerate living in it? Your brain tries to find a quick way out. Instinctively we think about the past, retrace our steps and find that pivotal moment that would change it all, as if we could somehow defy the laws of the universe and turn back the hands of time. When that notion fails us, we think about the future and remind ourselves of what is to come. For a moment this provides hope, and gives us something to which we look forward. But as the long road winds on, and we are not noticeably closer to those goals, we begin to DOUBT. Will I ever get there? Will I ever feel like me again? Will I live with ease and smile at the simple things, ever again?
Last Wednesday, February 29, 2012, marked the 4th week post-surgery on my right knee. With that came some freedom that I haven’t experienced for a while: I was able to drive my car again and I was allowed to begin partial weight bearing. But the gift of “being able to walk again” was a double-edged sword. When I was non-weight bearing I was able to tell myself “okay, things are hard right now because of all of the limitations on your knee… the swelling won’t go down until you can move your knee through walking and some biking… once I hit the 4 week mark things will improve!” Well then I hit the 4-week mark and began to put some weight on my right leg after 7 weeks of non-weight bearing. Reality, I am nowhere close to being able to walk…the road ahead of me looks longer than I imagined: bring on the DOUBT, bring on the fear.
I had stopped living in the now after my injury and Sarah’s passing, because it was too painful to just be here. What I didn’t realize was that by projecting myself into the future or dwelling on the past, I was making my present moment that much harder. By setting my sights on what was to come, I was setting myself up for disappointment. Sure, my “now” may currently be tough, but it isn’t ever going to be any better or worse than it IS. As the present moment changes it drifts away into the past and brings me to my next “now,” and nothing exists in the future, until the future is now. The only way to get past hard times is to live through them. Though that may seem disheartening, look how much there is to learn. And just know that you are strong enough to get through this moment, and if you can get through this one, you can get through the next one, and the next one and the next. Soon enough, that future will be your now. In the words of Francis Bacon Sr., “we have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake.”
To all my ski friends: shred on, and enjoy every moment out there. We never know when it will be our last.
In January 2005, I found myself in Aspen, Colorado for my first winter season out west. I was an eager 18-year-old girl from the East Coast, ready to take on the freeskiing industry, set new standards and win the X-Games. I was full of fire, ambition and fight. I talked big game, I was over-confident, very excited, and underprepared. I walked away finishing 9th out of 10 competitors that year; falling on nearly every run of a generous 3-run final. Every year since 2005 I have returned to Aspen ready to compete; always a little more experienced and filled with the perfect balance of excitement and anxiety. To this date, I have 5 Winter X-Games medals and 2 golds in halfpipe skiing.
This last Wednesday, January 25, I had a stirring of butterflies in my stomach as I exited I-70, routed CO-82, and headed the 35 miles toward Aspen. However this year, the butterflies were not in anticipation of competing in the most prestigious event in freeskiing, but for an entirely different reason. You see, two weeks prior, several distinct events took place that would change the course of my life.
At 6:45 a.m. on January 10, 2012, my alarm went off. I stirred, hit the snooze button, shifted my body slightly and closed my eyes again. I could hear the distant voices of my US Freeskiing teammates and coaches in the kitchen- raring to go. We had sled laps starting at 7:30 and they would only last until 9 a.m. But I wasn’t feeling it. I made the decision to sleep more, to let myself acclimate- it was my first day in Breck, I didn’t need to be taking sled laps at 7:30 in the morning. About an hour later I pulled myself out of bed- headed to the kitchen for a leisurely breakfast in a giant, quite house, abandoned by my eager teammates. My phone rang- my best friend and teammate for years, Jess Cumming, was on the line. She asked what my plan was for the day and I told her: I was tired, and not rushing out, planning on taking a mellow first day here to get ready for the weeks and months of chaos ahead. Jess was more than okay with my plan. As it was, she was coming over to Breckenridge to announce her retirement to our staff of coaches. I understood. Part of me was envious of her decision. To step away from all of the pressure, the expectations, the risk, the hard work; it sounded nice. But I was not done- there was more that I still wanted to accomplish out there on my skis- I wasn’t ready to turn it all in.
The weather was gorgeous in Breck- warmer than usual, sunny, not very windy- and I was out just to have fun. I followed the boys off of the bottom two jumps in Freeway after hitting the pipe and was pleasantly surprised at how soft the landings were. The jumps were much bigger than the jumps in Park City, but felt better because Breck wasn’t having the same thaw and freeze cycles that we were experiencing in PC. After a few laps I met up with Jess and a few other girls. I skipped the jumps for a few runs and then went back to them about an hour later. As I got to the start of the bottom two jumps I thought I knew the speed. I cleared the first jump and then went into the second jump. As soon as I left the top of the jump I knew I made a mistake. I was coming up short and I tried to prepare myself for the impact… With all of my effort trying to stretch for the landing, to wriggle my way over the knuckle, but to no avail. The impact was too great and my knee erupted. I began sliding down the landing and didn’t have the muscle control to pull my leg into my chest. I rolled over my leg twice and continued to slide, until I came to a stop. Expletives were flying out of my mouth because I knew I was done. Done for the day, for the year, for the rest of my career?
Over the next few hours I got X-Rays, scheduled an MRI, and tried not to be too discouraged. My phone was ringing quite a bit, and around 2 pm I got a call from Meg Olenick. She wanted to check up on me, but there was something else going on; I could tell by the unsteadiness in her voice. “Sarah took a bad fall, Jen. She’s being airlifted to the hospital. Her heart stopped for several minutes.” My brain, heart and body went into emotional overdrive. Everything began to hurt more. But there was no reason to stress yet. Sarah is the strongest girl that any of us know- tougher than nails. She will be fine. Sarah is always fine.
I received the results from my MRI- it appears as if a bomb went off in your knee. Your ACL is completely gone, you’ve torn your medial meniscus, there seems to be a floater in there- a piece of bone perhaps, and you’ve compressed your femur- there is a large indentation on the femoral condial and a disruption to the articular cartilage surface. To be honest, I wasn’t surprised. With how that impact felt, I’m glad that that was it. Right now, I just wanted to get back to Utah, to be closer to Sarah and her family, to sleep in my own bed and begin processing what was going on.
The next week was an emotional rollercoaster. There was very little news leaving the hospital regarding Sarah’s condition. We were all operating under the guise that no-new-is-good-news, but somewhere in my heart things did not feel right. Ten days after Sarah’s crash, she passed away. The damage in her brain was irreversible and there was nothing that anyone could do to bring her back. At this point, time came to a complete stand still. It felt as if the whole world stopped turning, yet everything continued on around me. The Winter Dew Tour in Killington was taking place that weekend and athletes would be expected to compete- Sarah weighing heavily on their minds.
So as I exited I-70 on Wednesday January 25th and had butterflies in my stomach, it wasn’t because of the prospect of winning another X-Games gold (that wouldn’t be happening, I wouldn’t be competing), but because it was time to be reunited with my extended family after Sarah’s passing. I wasn’t sure how I would feel. Would I feel comforted being with everyone? Would I harbor resentment, envy? Would I question the purpose of all of this? Would I feel deeply saddened, angry, mad? The answer is yes. But then I would ask another question: why? And to that I would find many answers.
Everywhere I looked, I saw sympathetic faces. Faces that said, “I can’t believe this happened, I am hurt and sad and scared, but more inspired than ever.” Every time someone smiled, it was Sarah smiling through. The whole industry, ski and snowboard alike, was united, and for the first time, it felt as if we were all in this together. The boundaries that Sarah broke for female skiers were uncanny- there are too many to name in one short article, but what became even more apparent this last week, was how much she touched the lives of every action sports athlete, female and male alike. You see, Sarah embodied what we are all about: perseverance, breaking boundaries, setting new standards, doing it because we were told we can’t, making something out of nothing, skiing because we love it. They say the brightest flames burn half as long, but I don’t think Sarah’s flame has been put out. I think Sarah’s flame has just been ignited for the first time. Now, more than ever, people are hearing about Sarah, listening and understanding her intentions, comprehending what she was about and finding ways to implement that into their own lives. She is changing the world.
As I sit here, writing this 3 days post knee surgery, reflecting on the coincidence of blowing my knee on the same fateful day that Sarah crashed, I cannot throw in the towel and say, “I’m done.” Now, more than ever, is the time to shift my perspective and remember why I started down this path- aspiring to one day live like Sarah Burke. Life is only worth living if we are doing what we love.
And with a broken heart I say, thank you Sarah, for everything you have given me in the past, and every gift you will be giving me in the future. For you, I am eternally grateful.
I recently turned 25- a quarter century- an intimidating age, an age you dream of as a child, but never actually think you will reach. 25, I once thought, was old- true adulthood. Life full of responsibilities, expectations, obstacles, rewards, timelines. A decade ago I was in high school, 15 years-old, being forced to learn, but I was convinced that what I needed to learn was out in the world. I remember an overlying feeling that I was already beyond high school. What value was there for me? And as I ventured into the world, I knew that things could get hard, life could get complicated, and I was ready.
The last decade has brought me far more joy than I ever could have imagined as a younger me, and also more sadness. More confusion and more clarity. More chaos and still more order. As I enter my 25th year, my world makes more sense than ever. I have accepted that sometimes, there are no answers. There is more coincidence than fate, and yet more meaning and light within us, than we can comprehend.
People are intrinsically good, but often troubled- plagued by remnants of the past, paralyzed by thoughts of the future, disconnected from their true selves- the beings that exist NOW, not then. The world is ours for creating; it is a blank canvas with endless painting supplies to colour our lives over and over again. Life is full of potential and possibility. We are bounded only by the limitations that we place upon our selves, or allow others to place upon us. Anything, everything is achievable.
I have been smiling from deep within my heart lately. It comes from a place within me that sees only good, that feels only purity. I am filled with a love that is so complete I feel I could die today. We don’t need to be saved, I’ve learned, we just need to be freed. Escape from our cages, step out from behind our masks, shed unnecessary layers, be who we are- wholly and completely.
It’s a dream. It must be.
It’s the place we go when we run out of space
In our real world.
It’s our dream world.
Convincing, but laced with inaccuracies.
A lowering sky,
Not one that confines us,
But conforms to us.
Lush green growth
Clings to impossibly vertical rock walls.
Heavy canopy,
Seamlessly builds, expands, becomes
Unreachable mountaintops.
Sheer cliff faces drop swiftly into farmland
And drown in crisp clear alpine water,
Preserved
For eternity.
And it all seems
To be
A mirror image
Of our world here-
Conducting from the right,
But maneuvering from the left.
Adrift, ill-fit, we split.
Another year, another summer in Wanaka, New Zealand. This place is starting to feel more like home, as it is my fourth trip down here. And I like how that feels. I remember feeling overwhelmingly excited the first year I came down. I had seven weeks to ski and party. The latter seemed to be the dominating theme that year. Last year, I came down to Wanaka on two separate occasions. The first trip was in August- I came down as a coach for the US Junior Worlds team. It was an opportunity to give back to the next generation of athletes that would be propelling our sport forward. And the second trip was a spring training camp up at Cardrona- slush pipe, airbag, good times. A selfish trip I suppose- laid back, a few hours of skiing and then some hiking, dining, and lounging in the afternoon.
But now, there is no sense of overwhelming excitement, just anticipation for what I know will be another unique experience in New Zealand. It may sound bad, but I say it in a good way, a way that feels as if I’m not leaving home, but going to a different home thousands of miles across an ocean. I know what to expect- amazing coffee (flat whites, anyone?), expensive gasoline, groceries and lodging, but brilliant views, breathtaking mountains, crisp alpine lakes, good wine, driving on the wrong side of the road, fickle weather that grounds your skiing, but then some gorgeous bluebird days that are so productive, you don’t care that you just sat on the couch for the last week awaiting this day’s arrival.
And that is where I find myself now. My first 3 days here were gorgeous- I immediately felt comfortable back on my skis from my long hiatus from skiing since March. I’ve already done some things that I’ve never done on skis before, 720 to switch 3, but yesterday and today, the weather came in. Conveniently, of course, just as the New Zealand Winter Games kicked off, the snow started to fall (which is appreciated and needed) but the winds picked up as well. 50 km/hr winds are a bit too quickly for us to soar into the air without being blown away. But now, I have other things to do- I feel as if I’m home, and on days where I can’t ski I can go to the gym, do yoga, post a blog and feel very content on being in New Zealand. I am not going stir-crazy as I may have gone a few years ago.
And as much as I feel like this place has become a home away from home, there is still an ethereal sense that I am in a dream world- so far removed from what is happening at home. My mind is free to reflect, my body has room to relax, my soul has space to expand. And as the world continues to revolve, my world seems to be standing still. Just the pace I need right now.
The last few months have been somewhat of a rollercoaster for me. I suppose in reality, life is always a rollercoaster- emotionally, physically, financially, spiritually. It seems to be part of human nature to experience extremes. In fact, it is these extremes that give us balance and sanity day to day. Without their existence we wouldn’t know what “good” feels like. We wouldn’t know what it means to “relax,” to “have fun.”
Season-ending injuries are common place in the world of professional athletes. (Especially those of us who have selected to pursue extreme sports.) When my season ended in mid-March I did my best to take it in stride. In retrospect, I was so overwhelmed by emotions from the entire season that another setback just couldn’t draw blood. I barely flinched. I barely processed that I was done for the year. I quickly just moved on. I went home to Connecticut to see my mom and dad, saw my grandfather for his 90th birthday (little did I know it would be the last time I’d see him), I went to the gym, cleaned my house, did some yard work, and slept in- a lot.
During this down time that I’ve had, it dawned on me that perhaps I should have taken a break earlier in the season. Tried to “relax” more. Tried to ski for “fun.” But in season I was just focused on my next goal- performing my best and winning whatever contest was next in line. And strangely, my mind set hasn’t changed much from mid-winter. I still seem to be focused on healing as quickly as possible, being ready to ski during the summer, setting goals for my training (in the gym, at the water ramps and on snow), wanting to push myself, not wanting to take a break, not welcoming the rest, not inviting the down time. On several occasions people ask what I like to do for fun, to relax. I like to mountain bike. I like to go to the gym, I like to hike, to climb, to swim, to camp, to play soccer, lacrosse… on and on. But to sit still? Is that relaxing? For me relaxation is more about a mental space than a physical one. My brain needs to feel satisfied and happy and all of those physical activities bring me just that. But am I getting the proper physical rest and recovery that I need? Or am I feeding this vicious cylce of over training that I have found myself in, time and again.
I suppose I don’t know. On this one, I need to follow my gut. Being happy is as rejuvenating as anything can be. So if there is a smile on my face throughout the day then I think I’m doing okay. I need to stay focused on what is here in front of me. On what I am doing today, right now, and fully welcome it. These are the steps that are necessary in getting me where I am ultimately trying to go. If I look too far ahead right now, I can make mistakes. I can re-injure my shoulder or hurt another part of my body. That is not what I want…
We are all on a journey of our own. Trying to make sense of all of this stuff that we call “life.” To find purpose and meaning in every day. I think the answer lies in happiness. Happiness for yourself and happiness shared with others. So as the roller coaster ride drops down at a sickening pace, just have faith that eventually things will rise and ultimately level out on even ground. I don’t have answers, just experiences. Thanks for reading.
xo
Jen
Neu Productions and Pro Skier Jen Hudak Announce Fall Release of “Moving Mountains”
Breckenridge-based production company releases trailer for a fall 2011 web-based ski film series featuring professional skier, X Games Gold Medalist and Olympic hopeful, Jen Hudak
BRECKENRIDGE, COLORADO- April 27, 2011 – Neu Productions, a Breckenridge based production company, proudly announces a new short film series featuring two-time X-games gold medalist and women’s freeskiing advocate, Jen Hudak. “Moving Mountains” is a four-part film series that follows Jen through her 2010-2011 season as she travels the globe, pushing the limits and pursuing her dreams.
As a 2014 Olympic hopeful, Jen hopes this series will motivate others to commit to what they are passionate about, as she has done with her skiing. Jen explains, “This is not just about the skiing- it is about everything that goes into it and everything you get in return. It is about the hard work and dedication, the triumph, and the failure.”
The first film in the inspirational four-part series is scheduled to be released in September, 2011, and a full-length TV show will be available on The Ski Channel in late fall. In Jen’s words, “The series takes a really honest look into one of the toughest seasons of my career. I was given obstacles to overcome, and in doing so I grew as a human being. There are always lessons to be learned from these situations. You always gain insight into another piece of yourself.”
John says, “It is amazing to work with Jen, her ability to perform at the highest level, articulate her struggles and triumphs, and smile along the way is inspiring. Simply, I can’t wait for people to see this project, we focused a great deal on story and hope to reach an audience not just within the core ski community but on the mainstream level as well.”
Similarly, Jen states, “John Roderick’s cinematography and editing is amazing. From the second I saw his work, I knew I wanted Neu Productions to produce my project, I couldn’t be happier with our decision to collaborate.”
To view the trailer for “Moving Mountains”: http://vimeo.com/22921112.
Jen and John would like to thank the sponsors that made this project possible: Under Armour, The Stone Clinic, Paul Mitchell and Volkl/Marker.
To celebrate their upcoming fall 2011 web-series, Neu Productions proudly releases, “Moving Mountains” trailer.
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Neu Productions is a diverse production resource company based in Breckenridge Colorado, producing innovative content that bridges both commercial and endemic visions to produce powerful branded content.
Newly refurbished www.jenhudak.com features recent photos, blog, schedule, sponsors, etc. The site showcases insight into Jens amazing personality. By following links provided on her website you can personally connect with on her Facebook fan page and Twitter. Jen is a professional skier of 7 years. Based in Salt Lake City, UT.
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This past weekend I headed out to Alpine Meadows California to judge Trains 2011, a unique contest created by the High Fives Foundation. This contest is unique in that there are multiple different categories in which people can succeed and the main emphasis is on a team format in which the team with the best “train” (where athletes ski in tight succession through the course) gives away the grand prize. No, it wasn’t a typo. The “winners” go home with PRIDE alone, as the actual prize money is donated to charity on behalf of the athletes. This event is skiing and snowboarding’s way of giving back.
Julian and I got a call, really an email, from Roy Tuscany (President and Co-Founder of the High Fives Foundation) asking us to be guest judges for Trains 2011. YES! Was the immediate answer and once we confirmed that we timing was impeccable, we confirmed. It was great to be on the other side of the judges booth this time. I got to enjoy the vibe, get a little tan, and be entertained by all the skiing and snowboarding that was going on- STRESS FREE! Not to mention, this was a Volkl sponsored event and the team had a sunset photo shoot after the contest was over with cameras mounted on a remote controlled helicopter! Epic! (See photos).
The best part of the event was that it was supporting a great cause. The High Fives Foundation is incredible. Founded only last year, High Fives aims to raise money and awareness for athletes who have suffered a life-altering injury while pursuing their dream in the winter action sports community. Being around such courageous individuals provided incredible perspective. Life is what you make it. When you stay positive through the downs, things will turn around. As long as you are breathing you can enjoy the offerings of this life. It made me so appreciative of my current situation, that I am still standing, slowed down, but still walking.
Thanks to everyone involved in the Trains event last weekend (Volkl, Discrete, Alpine Meadows)- it was an incredible time had by all!
Results:
Top Male: Parker White (chosen charity: $500 to the Vermont Adaptive Ski & Sports Foundation)
Top Female: Grete Eliassen (chosen charity: $500 to the NeuroRecovery Network)
Best High Five: Grey Team: Davis Souza, Austin Simonpietri, Sean Collin, Andy McDowell, and Peter Kukesh (chosen charity: $500 to the Alpine Meadows Ski Foundation)
Best Trick: Backside 1080° double cork by Brandon Reis (chosen charity: $500 to Ski D.U.C.K.)
Best Train/Team: Grey Team: Davis Souza, Austin Simonpietri, Sean Collin, Andy McDowell, and Peter Kukesh (chosen charity: $500 to the Shane McConkey Foundation)
