The Glory of God and Olympic Gold

I have always dreamed of winning an Olympic medal, and I even remember the moment I made the decision. And yes, it was a "decision."  From day one, it wasn't a mere "dream", but something I set my mind on doing and never actually questioned whether or not it was possible. With typical childhood enthusiasm, I "knew" that I was going, AND I was going to win a medal!

Even though I was young, you see, I understood something very important about the Olympic Games:  just to go was an incredible accomplishment.  To win:   the GREATEST.

But there was an element of charity in my thought process, for I wasn't going to do this for myself, but for my cousin. I recall hearing that she was training for the Olympics, and every so often we'd get updates.  The time for the Olympic trials was coming:  would she make the cut?  As I recall, she was one everyone EXPECTED to make the team. Then, the day before Trials, she was practicing some of her dives on the trampoline...and fell.  Her broken arm resulted in broken Olympic dreams and she decided to move on with her life instead of training for another four years.

I of course didn't understand why she didn't continue to train, but did, in a way, grasp her disappointment.  I couldn't do anything to help, so I decided right then that I would, someday, go to the Olympics in her honor. I never told her this, thinking to save it for the right moment. (To this day she doesn't know about this!)

That summer as we watched the Games, the first I really remember, my family asked me which sport I wanted. I liked the horses (of course!) but otherwise wasn't too sure.  Then, the following winter I happened to be flipping channels and discovered SKIING!  After watching, entranced, I decided that THAT was my sport!  After all, I knew how to jump on a sled and fly quickly down a hill. All I had to do was, well, do it standing up!

I begged and begged for skis, I begged to be taken somewhere to learn, and every weekend I waited for sports tv to come on so that I could look for skiing.  Unfortunately, Illinois is NOT a good place for aspiring ski racers and Mom deemed our sledding hill to be insufficient for my dreams. She did happen to provide a couple of red Fischer-Price "skis" for me, but after only one attempt, I realized they weren't even CLOSE to what I needed, and I refused to use them.  (The Diva in me emerged that early!).

I didn't actually get an opportunity to learn to ski until I was 17, and that day, after realizing the bunny hill was boring and useless, and I couldn't stand up, I hit the lift and went to a big hill, hoping survival mode would kick in.  It did.  As I was headed for a huge cliff and a flimsy orange snow fence, having watched other skiers for a half hour or so from the bunny hill, I knew my skis needed to go sideways TOGETHER....and I began doing parallel turns. About 5  In my 20's, my 4th time ever skiing downhill, I volunteered for the Ski Patrol....and the following fall/winter finally had the opportunity for formal instruction.  I began racing that same year, went to State Individuals that spring, and took 4th place.

Um...I should mention that there were only 4 racers in my age group.

I raced for a few years, enjoyed my time on the Ski Patrol, but my life was moving on and I had to make some hard decisions.  I realized by then (long before, actually!) that I'd never win an Olympic medal, that skiing was all I hoped it would be and more, and...very real surprise...I had a very natural ability in it!   But skiing had to go, and so the last few years haven't involved much of it for me.

I've always wondered, though, what might have happened had we grown up near a ski area of any sort, if I had REAL racing talent and whether I'd ever have the real drive and fearlessness of the greats.  The world will just have to suffer as it ponders that incredible question.

 God's Glory Revealed in Humanity

One of the things I love about the Olympics, and love even more thanks to my theological education, is the way God's Glory shines in these events.

In the Papal Encyclical, Redemptor Hominis, paragraph 10, John Paul II wrote about "Man's amazement at himself" and how God is glorified in His creation: in humanity.  As anyone familiar with his works will know, John Paul II frequently quoted the Vatican II document Gaudium et spes, 22, in how our Redeemer, Jesus, "fully reveals man to himself, making his supreme calling clear."   Over the last few years, we've frequently read this passage, regarding the human dimension of our redemption in Christ, the amazement at our very humanity, the very GIFT of our humanity. It's often been the subject of meditation, if not only mere study.

When I watch these Olympic Games, I wonder if I am experiencing perhaps one of the things John Paull II himself may have experienced when watching and participating in winter sports over the years of his life (he was an avid skier.)  I am taking note of the human ingenuity that invented so many of these sports and, in the incredible abilities of the athletes to constantly go further and faster.  I am more and more amazed at the ability of the human body not just to adapt, but to continue to push onward, to new and greater things, aided by technology, physics, all things that have, as their ultimate beginning.....God.

I even find humor in these sports we love to watch, and of course, participate in if we are able. While I tend to only watch a few of the summer games, it's the Winter Sports that have my undivided attention, and, to my way of thinking, show the greatest human ingenuity.  What do humans do in the cold, harsh conditions that cover the northern hemisphere for half the year, and the southern for the other half?

WE INVENT COOL STUFF TO DO! 


And then we compete!

We humans looked at the mountains and once we climbed them, said, "There must be a better way to get down."  Thus we have the advent of skis:  2 waxed boards can get one from summit to valley in a very short period of time!  It's not a huge jump to see how one can get from sledding to luge and skeleton and bobsleigh.   It's not hard to see how one can go from saying, "Speed isn't enough;  I wanna learn to fly!" and thus we have aerials and nordic ski jumping,  then snowboarding and skier/boarder cross...etc.

The Winter sports in general point, in some sense, to how the Glory of God is revealed in Man, and it brings me to my knees in amazement and gratitude. How BEAUTIFUL humanity is!  How incredible! What ingenuity!  What Glory of God is His creation!  As fallen as we are, as terrible and sinful, we HAVE to also take note of our beauty in the intellect and will God gave to us to be able to do such amazing things.  After all, we were created out of love, for love, to love God, and we have to see not just the sin that brought our redemption, but those things, our inherent dignity and even BEAUTY that makes us worthy of Redemption in God's own eyes!

OLYMPIC GOLD

The other day, having watched her for years now, I saw hometown girl Lindsey Vonn finally take her first Gold medal, on what was maybe one of, if not THE most dangerous, icy and bumpy downhill courses in the history of the Olympic Games. And she did it with an incredibly painful injury to her shin.  I watched her interview at the end, and cried with her, unable to help myself as it was such an emotional moment. I confess I often used to imagine what such a moment would be like! Seeing her live was a moment of joy so many of us could share with her.  I remember when she was an up-and-coming racer, and I remember her crash in Torino four years ago.  In my estimation she has really worked for this and deserves this medal!

I can't forget her tearful, joyful interview after the race.   "This is my dream! This means EVERYTHING to me! I  have sacrificed EVERYTHING for this. It means EVERYTHING to me!"

I understood her sentiment, and rejoiced, but was surprised in that I was also a little taken aback.

"Everything?"   No, I thought to myself, "...a Gold Medal isn't worth "everything."  I was further surprised to catch myself thinking, "You sacrificed EVERYTHING...for something so...finite?"

I do not mean here to denigrate ANYTHING Lindsey Vonn has accomplished. I'm THRILLED for her and remain so, and also realize that power of the moment she was in. I realize her sacrifice and that yes, she truly has sacrificed so much of herself, of everything, for so many years!  I have nothing but the greatest respect for ALL of the Olympic aspirants and athletes out there and I will forever love the Games.

Rather, I am trying to explain something going on within me that signals a change in my own values, for at one time, I would have been willing to give EVERYTHING for the chance to obtain such an award as an Olympic medal.

But...well...although Olympic Gold would mean a great deal to me, and undeniably it is supremely cool, and one of the greatest accomplishments available to mankind, well....it's not everything. And it's not worth everything. And I'm not willing to sacrifice everything to obtain it.

I realized in that moment that while our humanity and pinnacles of accomplishment reveal God's Glory, and in revealing His Glory to us, causes us to be amazed at our very humanity, in what we can accomplish, through Him, through sacrifice and suffering...I saw none other than...Jesus.  I saw the Cross, I saw our Redemption and came to a greater understanding of the love God has for us...and for Lindsey, whom He brought through her years of suffering and sacrifice to win the Gold in her moment of triumph.

"God fully reveals Man to himself, making his supreme calling clear."  (GS, 22)

Yes...He does.  And He uses everyday people to do it, and people often become His unwitting agents.

If I was going to sacrifice EVERYTHING, if I was going to give EVERYTHING, in order to possess something, I would no longer desire that that "something" be a Medal.

I want Christ Himself, and nothing else.

There is nothing else worth living for, and nothing else worth dying for...but for Him, and love of Him.

Let the world keep its medals. I don't want them anymore. I can do more and BE more with God alone.


*********

References:

***  Papal Encyclical Letter, John Paull II,  Redemmptor Hominis, 10:    ""This...is why Christ the Redeemer 'fully reveals man to himself.' If we may use the expression, this is the human dimension of the mystery of the redemption. In this dimension man finds again the greatness, dignity, and value that belong to his humanity."


* ** Vatican II Document, Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World,  Gaudium et spes, 22. "The truth is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light. For Adam, the first man, was a figure of Him Who was to come, namely Christ the Lord. Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear. It is not surprising, then, that in Him all the aforementioned truths find their root and attain their crown.


He Who is "the image of the invisible God" (Col. 1:15),  is Himself the perfect man. To the sons of Adam He restores the divine likeness which had been disfigured from the first sin onward. Since human nature as He assumed it was not annulled,  by that very fact it has been raised up to a divine dignity in our respect too. For by His incarnation the Son of God has united Himself in some fashion with every man. He worked with human hands, He thought with a human mind, acted by human choice  and loved with a human heart. Born of the Virgin Mary, He has truly been made one of us, like us in all things except sin.


As an innocent lamb He merited for us life by the free shedding of His own blood. In Him God reconciled us  to Himself and among ourselves; from bondage to the devil and sin He delivered us, so that each one of us can say with the Apostle: The Son of God "loved me and gave Himself up for me" (Gal. 2:20). By suffering for us He not only provided us with an example for our imitation, He blazed a trail, and if we follow it, life and death are made holy and take on a new meaning.

Olympics: Behind the Scenes

I'd like to offer a challenge to our local Minnesota NEWS stations.

 I used to be a Ski Patroller here in Minnesota, and loved my service there.  Without the Ski Patrol, believe me, no ski area anywhere would run. During my time, I knew men and women who went to other Ski Areas, other States, and other Nations to serve on their Patrol. Some were regular citizens, some military families.  Most were volunteer, a few became Professional Patrollers.

And then, when the Olympics came to Salt Lake City, some of my fellow Patrollers went out West to be a part of the Games.

I remember receiving the letter under the National Ski Patrol letterhead, and reading it in excitement...but I didn't have the time or the money to go. I wanted to serve my country and all nations, but I didn't have the money or the time to offer during those two weeks. In abject disappointment, I threw the letter away, knowing it wasn't to be.  Not for me.

But I knew others who WERE able to go, and had the financial circumstances that allowed such a trip.

These were regular everyday people, volunteer Ski Patrollers who weren't offered any perks for their service in the Olympics.   They had to pay their own way, they had to fork over the outrageous amounts of money for hotel rooms, for food, and they were not given a preference for their obviously-favorite sport:  downhill skiing.  Nor did they even have the time to ski THEMSELVES while in the Olympic venue! Rather, they volunteered all that they had to be placed at the mercy of the Games, and there, they happily served.

The fact that this is the reality of the volunteers at the Olympic Games, and given that this year has begun with a fatality on the Luge course, I wonder if perhaps the different networks should finally call attention to those unsung souls who help to make the Olympics possible!

Here's what I would like to see:

Portray the Ski Patrol especially as winter is their venue, then the other First Responders. Show how the Ski Patrol volunteers come from ALL the nations, are regular people, and what they sacrifice to be present at the Games, but more importantly, to give of themselves.

Tell THOSE stories.  Without them, the athletes would not be able to compete.  No one can deny the danger of these sporting events, especially this year.

It does not denigrate the Olympic Games or the Athletes themselves to reveal the very enthusiastic support they received from around the world:  the normal, hidden men and women who are ready to pay great amounts in order not just to be present, but to WORK to ensure the safety of the Olympians!

I throw this challenge most especially to KARE11 a local network, an Olympic sponsor.

But I wonder if other networks are also interested, and so I call upon WCCO, KSTP and FOX9!  

I went to both the general and local Olympics websites through NBC and found no way to suggest a story in any realistic manner.. I hope, then, that this blog post might be effective given the fact I know for a FACT  that each network peruses the internet for mentions of their own sites.

(HINT:  This is FREE sponsorship!)

Consider this, then, to be a formal request:

Please highlight the Ski Patrol's role at the Olympics!

 Talk about their own training, sacrifice, and the reality of the unity of  the Ski Patrol throughout the world. Talk about how they came to serve at the Olympics this year, in Vancouver.  

That's a background story worth watching, one to appeal to everyone, even the most average skier....and what a way to participate in history!

Please...someone publicize this story?

It's one worth telling, and the men and women I know who begin to and continue to serve as Ski Patrollers  deserve the recognition. They are, in fact, the unsung heroes of these Games, and ALL Olympic games, in every venue!    

Anyone?

*crickets*

Please make the crickets stop!  

Road to Vancouver

I"m a HUGE fan of Alpine Skiing. As a child I saw it once on TV one Saturday and decided then and there that I wanted to learn how to do that!  For some reason, though, I didn't find the red Fischer-Price pieces of ski-shaped plastic to be acceptable. Go figure.

Unfortunately, I didn't learn to ski until I was 17, and took a big leap when I was in my 20's to join the Ski Patrol, experiencing there my 4th time EVER on downhill skis. But it ended well...I actually went that season from being a "non-skier" to "Rookie of the Year."  Click the link for that Adoro-patented-long-winded story.

Tonight, though, I want to talk about something else:   the United States Ski Team.

Tonight, NBC sponsored a documentary about the Alpine team, Truth in Motion: Road to Vancouver.

I watched it, drooling, still wishing I was one of them. Now that I've watched the team for so many years, I am given a whole new perspective. I remember when Julia Mancuso made her debut and when Lindsey Kildow (now Vonn)  from MN crashed in the last Olympics, in a practice run, Mancuso took her medal. It was Mancuso's day, her run.  But Vonn's career has been incredible and I have to admit, where I used to admire Picabo Street, I admire Lindsey Vonn more!

But tonight, Sarah Schleper has really caught my attention.  She's had a rough road. She has been featured in commercials, and I've watched her crash and burn in far too many races. Her characteristic "ROAR!"  when she's in the gate gets my blood running, too, and brings us all tearing down the  hill with her, looking for that big finish!

There's more, though; Sarah Schleper isn't just a racer:  She's a Mom.  She and her husband, a couple years ago found that she was unexpectedly pregnant.  In the documentary she gave her initial reaction: "NO!  Not now! I want to come back!"  She knew how hard it would be, the demands of her sport, how hard she'd been working to rehab from back surgery...and spoke only of the support of the team for her impending motherhood.  They told her good luck and they'd be waiting.

Sarah CHOSE to have her baby. In a world full of people who would say, "Think of your career!  You can't ski forever!" she said YES to life!

Now, I don't see any evidence that Mrs. Schleper's formal position is that of pro-life. However, her very decision, the beauty of her child, the fact she is sacrificing herself for her child and family and has STILL managed to get to the 2010 Olympics speaks VOLUMES.

God bless her, God bless her child, her family, and I, for one, will be hoping for her success in the upcoming Olympic Games.  GO, SARAH!

Corporate Sponsorship for Vocations?

I am a HUGE fan of skiing. I miss racing, and I still have my t-shirts covered with the logos of the various sponsors of the racing programs. Each year, there are certain downhill races shown on TV, and as the camera focuses on the racer in the starting house, the racer's name and sponsors flash onto the screen:

Racer Xyzowski

Boots: Nordica

Skis: Fischer RX8

Poles: Goode Carbonate

Bindings: Atomic

That sure is a whole lotta corporate sponsorship! All those companies are supporting THAT RACER, and of course, the tradeoff is that the individual racer, especially if they do well, will make money for those sponsors. They might not outright hawk the wares, but ski enthusiasts want to know what their favorite heroes are using, and of course, they'll head right to that company hoping to get the same kinds of results. If nothing else, they want to know they're skiing every Saturday afternoon on the same stuff Hillary Lindh, Darron Rahlves, Bode Miller, or Lindsey Vonn are using when they win their World Cups and Olympic Medals.

WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH VOCATIONS??

Well, I've been thinking a lot lately. Mostly because I'm in a huge bind. I have this really unique opportunity to both visit a community or two AND go bankrupt and lose my house...all at the same time!

During the summer, as it is with many people who work for the Church, our hours are cut, and my department is down to 10 hours per week. That would come out to being 60 hours in six weeks. Which, if you do the math, isn't a lot of money, especially when we don't get paid a living wage to begin with.

Everyone around me is losing their jobs, being laid off, etc. etc., so really, why should I be any different? Losing my house wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. It sure won't help me enter a community if I (and the community) discern that's where I'm supposed to be, but, hey...God's will be done.

So here I sit, with this wonderful "problem" of time on my hands. I could conceiveably be gone for a month and only have to use forty hours of vacation time! I realized I had a choice: not pay my bills while sitting at home, or not pay my bills while visiting a community! In any case, the job situation isn't looking good, and so I've decided to cast my lot with God and focus on discernment first (ie seeking the Kingdom) and if that doesn't work out, then I'll look more seriously at the lack of other options again.

So while stressing about all of this, my eyes lit upon my skis in the corner, and I thought to myself, so I thought, "Corporate Sponsorship!"

What if people in discernment had corporate sponsors?

No, I'm not talking about the organizations that help people pay off their debt, such as the Laboure Society. Those wonderful apostolates are for people who KNOW they are called to at least enter their communities. There's whole heck of a lot of a bunch of us floating around who really only want the opportunity to take the next step to find out if God is really calling us. But we've already got the vow of poverty down pat and therefore haven't the means to move from the spots where our lives have cemented us to the ground.

This calls for an ACME Jackhammer. Is ACME available? Or maybe Spishak?

Do they do sponsorship?

What would corporate sponsorship look like?

Would a person in discernment be required to wear some kind of jacket, or habit with the logos of their sponsors printed on it with "I'm Discerning the Priesthood!" Or "I'm Discerning Religious Life!" printed underneath?

Would there be competetions? Maybe cake walks?

"Dominican-leaning discerner in chute 1 sponsored by ACME is pitted against Franciscan-leaning discerner in chute 2, sponsored by Spishak! And they're off! Oh! WAIT! We have interference from Benedictine-leaning discerner who hasn't eaten all day and has stolen the cake from Discerner 1!!! This is unprecedented!

The judges will make a ruling!

(pause)

As it turns out, the cameras show that the Dominican saw the Benedictine coming and gave him the cake, and he has testified the Benedictine looked hungry! Point to the Dominican for charity!

Wait! We have a tie! The Franciscan discerner gave his cake to an onlooker who had been insulting him and did that BEFORE the Benedictine interference! Point goes to the Franciscans! Sponsored by Spishak!"

And the next thing you know, there would be more competetions, and only the best would be accepted, and they'd have to give up their cake all the time and never get to take any home. Each community would have cake walks and BINGO to pick the right candidates, and that might warp into a habit-donning contest, while the candidates are wearing really large unweildy oven mitts and trying to get dressed in spite of that obstacle. And all the while they'd have to wear their corporate logos.

Parish festivals would turn into Vocation Circuses.

Oh, and if that discerner actually "won" their entrance into a community, well, then they'd have to be filmed on YouTube praying for the success of their sponsors and asking God to send them customers. (Hmmm....well, sounds like a pretty good tradeoff, actually), but that could be abused and the poor postulant could be completely exploited by unethical sponsors.

God forbid the poor postulant (at that point) decide to leave the monastery or discern they have a different charism! They'd have to go out and find different sponsors that would support Dominicans more than Franciscans, or Benedictines instead of Jesuits! Their own original sponsors would be completely scandalized, and might even lose business! The Discerners would be dropped like hot potatoes and maybe would be taken to court to pay back the cost of the plane ticket covered by the sponsors who sent them a few states away to discern their particular community!

A black market might form among sponsors, and bookies would start taking bets about this or that discerner, anything from how long they would last, whether they'd get airsick on the flight from the midwest to LA, whether they were Carmelite or Passionist, cloistered or active, liberal or conservative...and it would degenerate from there. They'd start creating illegal underground races, and the winners would be getting paid off by the losers, generating more Vocations funds for the Vocation Mafia...uh...I mean...Corporate Sponsors.

Hmmm....on second thought, I don't think corporate sponsorship would really be the way to go. Seems like a risky venture.

Begging:

Instead of creating all that havoc, I guess I'll go with the tried and true and holy practice of begging. Not begging without need, but only WITH need.

I started this week. Because a Sister suggested it to me, I wrote to the Vocations office, begging nicely. They responded, and they said that they will assist me, and told me to also inquire at my own parish. So I inquired, and received a response today from my own Pastor. He's looking into it.

At this point, it looks like a plane ticket might emerge from these begs...uh..professional inquiries. Ok...yeah...I was begging. Let's call it what it is. Because it is begging. When you so Po' you can't afford the "or", well, you're begging.

I still don't know how any bills are going to be paid this summer, and would love it if someone emerged to pay my mortgage and association fee.

For now, I'll worry about the plane ticket and the seemingly impending trip for serious discernment of a community with whom I've been in contact for about a year and a half now. It's time to go. I want to go. And I'd also like to visit a cloistered monastic community this summer if that step seems warranted (both by them and by me). But does GOD will it?

That's always the question. And everything, even to the last penny, flows from that question.

Jesus, I trust in thee.

Corporate Sponsors...not so much.

*

Head Injuries

This is a serious topic, and one that should be discussed;  the fact is, head injuries can be deadly. 

The big news today is about how actress Natasha Richardson died of a head injury received as a result of a ski crash on a beginner's slope. Initially she was fine, they tell us, but the other symptoms appeared.  And that's what happens. One minute someone is fine...the next...they're dead.  

In my first year as a Ski Patroller, I remember that one of our fellow patrollers took a serious spill on the bunny hill. It was a freak thing; he was an amazing skier, he and his wife were actually moving to Europe and were going to be patrolling there, in the Alps. Well, he took a headlong crash and I remember being on scene...it was pretty obvious he'd hit hard.  And yet...it was a bunny hill.  Never underestimate the force of a fall, even when it doesn't seem to make sense. 

I was also the patroller in charge of a scene on that very same bunny hill a couple years later,  where a little boy had taken quite a creative fall. And although over and over again, he said he hadn't hit his head at all...as it turned out, he DID have a head injury, although in his case it was a slight concussion.

Both of the above people recovered and went on with their lives, but witnessing the damage caused what what was later diagnosed as a "slight concussion" was quite daunting. In the first case, the patroller, "Bill" was bleeding all over the place as a result of a direct hit.  In the latter case, "Andy" had no outward sign of his injury, but he DID go downhill QUICK about 20 minutes later.

One of the scary things with head injuries is that although there are symptoms, they don't always match on every occasion. There are closed and open head injuries. There are direct hits, and hits that involve the brain being "rattled" even though the head has not taken a direct  strike.  There are immediate symptoms, and delayed symptoms.  And sometimes, the patient has to REPORT those symptoms because they can't otherwise be recognized.  (Actually, this would be the difference between Signs and Symptoms:  Signs are objective and can be outwardly recognized, such as an altered mental status, blown pupils, etc.,  Symptoms are subjective and must be reported, although sometimes can be guessed; i.e. someone who is drowsy can report being drowsy, but maybe it can be observed, too. But typically, symptoms MUST be reported due to their subjective nature.)

Personal Experience That Scares Me Now

I've suffered a few concussions; one from a direct hit, a couple others as a "secondary" injury. 

When I was 13, I was in a serious car accident, in which I had not been wearing a seat belt.  We rear ended another car, and I can STILL remember the collision.  As my head struck the windshield at 40 mph or so, my knees hit the dash, and I was thrown back against the seat, dazed, encased in darkness.  I remember shaking it off and looking over at the driver, who was asking me if I was OK. I said I was,  although I was not.  My knees hurt. My head hurt. I remember reaching up and palpating a bump on my head, surprised that was all I seemed to have. I remember trying to peer through a cloud of darkness and trying to grasp what had just happened and what was going on. 

I was really really tired, but got out of the car, wanting to be OK, thinking if I pretended I was, that would effect reality.   

When the ambulance arrived, I told the 'medic, when he asked, that I had not lost consciousness. In my mind, I hadn't. It had just "gotten dark" for awhile.  I didn't tell him even that.  

Uh...HELLO!  

At the time, I was still a pretty shy person, and he was a stranger; it stood to reason that I wouldn't just blurt out what I was feeling, because I didn't want to be the center of attention.   IN a way, because I wanted to avoid attention, I fled from the treatment I needed, and honestly thought I DIDN'T need. 

But I should have told him the other symptoms; the headache, which WAS severe, in spite of the brave face I tried to put on it.  I didn't tell him how tired I was, and in reality, I don't think I know those were symptoms.  They were just how I felt but meant nothing to me.  I didn't expect to feel GOOD after being involved in a fairly serious car accident.  I didn't expect, that if my noggin had cracked a windshield, that I'd feel good, but I didn't really think I was injured, either. 

On the funny side...the Sheriff himself was at that scene and offered to give me a ride home. I was a little intimidated at the time, and wondered if he'd walk to me to the door (which actually would have been proper).  But no, I said I was fine and would prefer a ride from my friend, thinking that if a cop brought me home, Mom would REALLY freak out!  

Well, as it was, I got a ride home from my friend's brother- in-law,  and Mom's immediate reaction, as I feared, was to overreact and bring me to the ER in a panic. I had a small cut on my head. As we were led back to an examining room, she said, "Oh, I hope she doesn't need stitches!"

I stopped in my tracks. "Stitches?"   (I've never been a fan of needles....)

I didn't need stitches. But somehow they coaxed me back and once I had a bed to lie on, I did so. I wanted to go to sleep. They didn't seem to pick up on that. The doctor asked me everything else, gave me the neurological tests, everything, even as I sat there wanting nothing more than to sleep. 

When we got home, I worked hard to stay awake, and when I finally DID go to bed, Mom spent the night waking me up every two hours to ask me "stupid questions."  I just wanted to sleep.  Of course, you realize that those "stupid questions" were quite necessary and thank God Mom did what she had to do and asked them. (And I got them all right!)  :-D 

(As an aside...I was glad she didn't ask me anything about algebra or geometry...)

At the ER they had given me a sheet of paper that said if the headache was ongoing, we should come back.  I actually put it away and said nothing.  The headache was so horrible that I couldn't do anything for DAYS, but I never told Mom how bad it was. In the afternoons, I would lie down hoping for some relief, and finally the pain would abate enough to allow me to function again. 

That was my first concussion.  Undiagnosed, but I know enough now that there's no doubt that I had one.  Fun.  

The second one happened when I was in the Ski Patrol's candidacy program. 

On a Saturday evening, as an Auxiliary Patroller (IE trained in Outdoor Emergency Care, the equivalent to EMT, had not passed the Hill Test, thus not wearing an identifying jacket), I took a bad fall.  I wasn't a great skier at the time, and was "ripping" down a slope.  At the bottom was a snow machine which caused the slope to go from icy to sticky with new, wet, manufactured snow. I turned to make my hockey-stop, recognizing the conditions, but misjudged the space and the snow, besides the fact my weight was on the wrong ski.  I crashed, hard, and in that crash there was no "slide" to absorb the impact. I think I almost felt my brain hit my skull.  

But I stood up,even in that piercing pain,  brushed myself off, and went on, with a headache that got worse and worse throughout the evening. 

I went home, and the next day got up and returned to the ski area for Hill Training, already fearing that maybe I shouldn't be driving, much less skiing. But I didn't want to say anything because passing the Hill Test was EVERYTHING to me. 

That day I was just "off" in general.  I had no balance. While skiing, I actually had a really creative crash that jammed my skis between  the snow and a little "cliff", causing a friend to have to help me disengage from the "trap".  While standing on flat ground near the lift, I tipped over very suddenly, and later that day, in a store, I quite literally just fell over.  It was the oddest thing; while I've never been a graceful person, it is NOT normal for me to be standing one moment and lying on the ground the next, with no memory as to how I'd gotten there. 

So you see the problem, don't you? 

None of me fellow patrollers recognized the signs because they hadn't seen the crash and had no idea that I had other symptoms, including a headache much like the one I'd had when I was 13.  How could they know? Even though I suspected at the time I might have a closed head injury, I said nothing, choosing to say nothing, thinking maybe if I did, they would pull me from training that day.  (Wisely, in fact.)  

I never experienced nausea, but I did experience a certain confusion, loss of balance, and the piercing headache. 

I should have been in the hospital;  that injury...both injuries, could have killed me.  

And a LOT of people experience this and live to tell about it. But every so often, we get an example of someone who doesn't.  

My heart goes out to Natasha's family, and she herself also remains in my prayers.  What they must be suffering is incomprehensible.  In one moment their dear one is present in their lives, and after something that seems so small...she's gone. 

None of us knows the day or the hour, but there is one thing this tragic accident brings to the forefront; and that is the reality that one doesn't NEED to die of such an injury.  We all need to be vigilant and recognize those things that could cause such an injury. It seems in her case she was given the proper advice and followed it, and really, that's all anyone can do. 

I encourage everyone to become educated in these things, if not to use them professionally then at least to be able to help those you love if they ARE ever injured.  When in doubt, take your friend to Urgent Care or the ER. It's better to be seen than not.  

Even in my case, I suspected an injury, but didn't take the initiative to go;  but had someone insisted, I would have. Of course, they would have had to drive me.  I shudder to think, now, that I was driving a few hours between the ski area and home when I shouldn't have been driving at all!  

Our brains are very sensitive and it doesn't take much to kill us. Please take any kind of head injury very seriously, and know the symptoms, or even the possibility. If one seems likely...get to the doctor.  As soon as possible. And tell them every symptom, even if it doesn't seem important, because at that point, everything is. 

Please keep Natasha Richardson in your prayers, and all of her family, as well as the families that are living out this very same thing right now. 

Sledding!

It's really obvious I need to write about something fun.  After a long series of serious posts about this and that and technical stuff and automotive stuff, well...let's just say some levity is in order. 

Agreed?  

Agreed. 

So, given that it's winter and even the southern states are taking a beating, well, let's first accept the fact that we can't do anything about the weather, and in that acceptance, we can find the fun that it is. 

I'm an avid skier, although I can't afford it these days, and I've never been out West, sadly.  :-( 

But I have great memories, and they go back to playing in the snow as a child.  And let's face it...our "horror stories" are the best to tell.  Like the one about the flood that happened while we were sledding in a dangerous area. 

There's another I don't think I've written about, though.  

After my family moved to Minnesota, we didn't get to do a lot of sledding, because, suddenly, we lived In Town.  (That's how we thought of it, capitalized like a title).  

In Town, there were SOME hills...but they were pathetic. Not worth our time.  They were bumps and it wasn't worth dragging a toboggan or sled or carrying it over pavement to get to six-foot (in length) "hill" that bordered a soccer field. 

The good thing was, though, that our uncle was a Park Ranger, and because they lived out at the local State Park, they also had access to great winter recreation...including the simplicity of sledding. 

I was  in maybe 9th grade (so about 14 or so) when we went out to Scrambler Hill on a dark winter evening under a full moon.  

We had to snowmobile to get there as it wasn't a hill accessable by driving.  So we dragged our sleds behind us as we slowly moved through the trails, untill we met the Queen of all sledding hills everywhere. 

This hill had SHELVES...it started out nearly flat, with a drop down to the next landing, then to the next and next.  At the bottom was what in skiing terms we called a "compression", which basically means that it flattens quickly and causes the g-forces to press upward.  Not a big deal in hiking, but a HUGE deal when moving at a fast speed!  Compressions KILL ski racers, and I mean that literally.  If they can't "absorb" the compression, they are flung into the air in really creative ways by gravity.  

Back to Scrambler:  in winters where there was a lot of snow, it wasn't a big deal.  It was ALWAYS a fun and challenging hill, but it wasn't necessarily dangerous. 

Well, THAT winter there hadn't been a lot of snow, so of course Scrambler Hill was quite..uh...bumpy.  

That evening, I remember climbing onto the plastic orange toboggan behind my cousin, who was a freshman in college.  Neither of us remembered that thing being so small.  Didn't we used to be able to fit at LEAST 3 of us on it?  

Well, apparently not anymore. 

She sat in front, I was in the back as we stared down this killer hill, the Hannenkam of Sledding.

Without a second thought, we pushed off, hit the first bump, screamed as we went airborn and came down on the slope, hit the second, screamed and went airborne again, and just as we hit the compression at the bottom, diving nose-first into the compression, I remember flying over my cousin. I remember her head striking my knees while I was still weightless, and then I plowed head-first into the thin, now-icy snow at the bottom of the drop. 

I laid there a moment, confused as to how I'd gotten there.  My neck hurt. My forehead had plowed a furrow into the ground, which thankfully allowed me to be able to breathe.  

My cousin was getting up, with her friend helping her. They were laughing, and it seemed so far away. I wanted to get up, too.  But I'd hit hard, head-first.  I knew that was bad.  

I had a sudden, panicked thought:  what if I never walked again?  What if my neck was broken?  

In my panic, I put my hands under me, thrilled they moved, and thought to myself even before the cloud of impending darkness cleared away, "If I don't stand up RIGHT NOW I'll NEVER walk AGAIN!" 

And so I pushed upward, scrambling to my feet, just as one of the guys was asking, "Are you OK?" 

"GREAT!  FINE!"

I couldn't see for a moment, and wondered how long I'd be able to stand. 

Thankfully, by then we were out of time, and decided to head back to the house.  We trudged back up the hill and mounted our snowmobiles, leaving the toboggans there to be picked up the next day via snowcat.  

When we got back to the house, both my cousin and I were quiet.  She was a nursing student, so was a bit more aware of what could have happened than I, and insisted on checking my pupils, as she'd asked her mother to do when we'd gotten home.  

It seems we were fine...but lucky.  

But I'll never forget that feeling of weightlessness, just before plowing head-first with all my force into the snowpack, and the moment of wondering if I'd never walk again. 

Now that I think of it...I think that's the last time I ever went sledding.  

Hmm. 

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P.S.  Years later I started downhill skiing and got into racing...wanna talk about SERIOUS crashes?   Dang, I'm happy to be alive! 

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What's YOUR story?

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Prayer Request

I'm a huge fan of downhill skiing, and today discovered that because of a horrific training  crash in Kitzbuehl,  Austria,  Swiss downhill racer Daniel Albrecht is in rough shape and has been placed in an induced coma.  Please pray for his full recovery, and for his family, friends and teammates.  

The article can be found here.  

I Can't Help It

I can't.

I keep staring at my skis, drooling. I keep opening my closet door, staring at my boots. The next step (excuse the pun), is to don the boots and get the feel of them again.

I grew up desiring greatly to learn to ski, but all I had was a sled, and I enjoyed it immensely, let me tell you!

But when we moved to Minnesota, I learned how to cross country ski at a nearby State Park, where my uncle was the Park Ranger. (Random fact; he was present when I was sworn in 12 years later as a Police Officer in a suburb an hour to the north.)

Anyway, my favorite part was navigating the downhills. And then, happily, I had the opportunity to race Nordic in college, for I joined the Nordic (Cross Country) Ski Team, and still have the sweatshirt and photos to prove it! My favorite there in the bluffs was also the downhills, especially if there were hairy turns!

But my REAL love...ever since I first experienced the terror and the ecstasy when I was 17...was Downhill (Alpine) Skiing. That had ALWAYS been my dream, even from early childhood.

So it was. It's a long story, but I inquired one day about the Ski Patrol during the spring I completed EMT training. I learned I'd have to complete their Outdoor Emergency Care (OEC) training, which was like EMT but specific to winter conditions, and I'd have to take Hill Training to learn how to transport patients. It wasn't long before I spoke with the Patrol Director and was enrolled for Fall Classes.

They never asked me how many times I'd been downhill skiing.

As of the day I inquired, on-site at the ski area: Three times.

Yup.

I'll not tell that story tonight, but suffice to say that the Patrol and Ski Instructors "adopted" me, and even though I'd started out barely able to get down a hill in one piece, I took the Hill Test that early February and passe. In an El Nino winter, with only six weeks of preparation. (That speaks a LOT more for my instructors and supporters than it does for me, but again...it's a longer story).

Not only that, but I also began racing that year, and by the end of the season I'd won my first Silver Medal and got a 4th Place medal at the State competetion. (Don't get excited...it doesn't mean as much as you think it might!)

It was all like my own personal Disney movie, but without all the cheesy music. And there were no dancing trees or talking chair lifts.

I volunteered as a Ski Patroller and continued racing for four years, and realized I had to quit for many reasons. But I loved that time, I left with hope of being able to return one day, and I long to take out the skis that grace my ski-bag and hit the slopes. I miss the camaraderie, I miss hearing the urgent call of "Ski Patrol! Ski Patrol!", and I even miss transporting patients down icy slopes.

I never minded mopping up blood from kids who had taken a failed risk, face-planted and got bloody doing so. We often sent them back out reminding them, "Hey, you just remember...!" (They would get quiet and scared at this point...) "Next time....LAND IT!"

They came in scared, maybe crying...and left laughing and enthused.

I don't think I can count the number of wrists or knees we splinted, or the record number of times the local ambulance came out to pick up what we'd hauled off the hill...or the guy who'd wandered into the shack asking for help. It usually wasn't that bad, but there are a couple that leave a bad taste in my mouth. I don't miss those.

But still, overall, it was fun, but I have to admit; we ALL did it because we loved skiing.Volunteering as a Ski Patroller "financed" our ski habit, so we could blend something relaxing with something fulfilling; it's a great combination.


So it is, this time of year, when it's cold, when it's snowing, I feel guilty because I'm NOT heading up to the Ski Area, and I miss everything about it. My weekends were ALL ABOUT skiing. I miss my fellow Patrollers, people from all walks of life, all levels of experience, all sharing something fun and helping others while doing so.

But really, although it's selfish, I admit I really miss the pure feeling of flying down a slope, riding a thin edge, an accelerating arc, constantly going faster, but maintaining exquisit control. It cleared my mind, it calmed me down, because, in those brief moments, all I could focus upon was the present moment. Anxieties and worries could come back to me on the ski lift, but for a few moments, I was free, I was joyful, and I was happy to be alive.

Now that I'm working on my Graduate degree, I can't afford to go skiing....not the money, not the time. But for a few weeks, I'm without the same obligations. I'm considering heading up to my old ski area, and maybe if my old shift is still there, they'll let me join them for an evening. Or if not, I'd be content to ski on my own, take a day of "retreat", enjoy this very contemplative activity, and remember what it feels like to really be free...if only for a few moments in time.

Ah....skiing...


I wonder if maybe the Ski Patrol will take me back one day?
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