Watching the Winter Olympics brings back memories of growing up in the north and having. Growing up in a small community gave kids lots of opportunities.
The Upper Pennisula had it's very own Olympics. My brother Pete, was the first in my family to make the team. He made the Nordic team and I was in awe. He was the endurance athlete of the family. He trained really hard. The coach told my mom she should encourage Pete to run. She was very supportive of this. On each trip home from town, when we were a mile from home my Mom would pull over and let Pete out so he could run home. Sometimes he hopped out readily and hit the road. Other days he fussed and my Mom had to use some of those parental psych tricks on him. Tom and I would vie for "shot gun" until Pete started running. We were happy to ride the last mile home in the Oldsmobile wagon.
Until race day.....when Pete took the stand. We were "darn" proud of him. He made the evening news that night. We were forever in awe. 25 years later I'm still motivated by that story. I can brag about all the Ironman finshes I want. If Mom pulled the car over on a cold day would I show my committment and run home?
There were cross country ski trails a mile from home. We could ski there. In fact the neighborhood kids had ski parties. The ski hill was 5 miles away. It was eqipped with a "high speed" tow rope and lights. I love skiing under the lights. Some of the areas pools have similar lighting and it makes me a bit nostalgic.
Silver Moutain Ski Area. Season Pass Cost $20
World Cup, Silver Mountain Cup. Really what's the difference. We think we are just like the pros on Wide World of Sports. My brothers get it right sporting their "Nubs Nob" ski area patches and showing their skis logos proudly. I'm manage to display my trophy but cover the patch and the logo.
I remember when my skis got too small and we traded them in for a bigger size. I told the sales person to make sure the next girl knew they had gold medal history. Despite the scratches and multiple rocked patches in the bases I thought they were more valuable than new ones.
My Grandma lived next door. We thought she had gone off her rocker when she called insitsing our dog "Moose" was running on the roof. Apparently the snow banks below gave Moose the confidence to climb from the house deck onto the garage roof.
Back to Silver Moutain in the days of bamboo.
Before break away gate, pole guards, shin guards, spandex, and helmets my Dad could really charge down the moutain.
It took me until I was 17, to catch my father. I was so proud.
At 33, I've come to terms with the fact he gave me the win.
Thanks Dad.
We had plenty of unstructured activity and opportunity to use our imagination.
I used to imagine I was an Artic Expeditionist.
This was the view from our living room window.
Lake Michigan or the Artic Ocean?
My sibling and Dad gave up ski racing long before I did.
It might be safe to say I suffered from some form of arrested development. I just couldn't stop.
I'm no longer ski racing, but I still have the yellow helmet.
Next week I'll put it to use.
Sunday called for more rain, mud and fun. 
Homemade pizza and beer. 
Socks for Tim
Julie models the new jacket.
The skating pond.
Snowmobiling.
More skating.
There were cross country ski trails a mile from home. We could ski there. In fact the neighborhood kids had ski parties. The ski hill was 5 miles away. It was eqipped with a "high speed" tow rope and lights. I love skiing under the lights. Some of the areas pools have similar lighting and it makes me a bit nostalgic.
Before break away gate, pole guards, shin guards, spandex, and helmets my Dad could really charge down the moutain. 
I used to imagine I was an Artic Expeditionist. 
I'm no longer ski racing, but I still have the yellow helmet. 
