My Story

Born and raised in Berkeley, California, I spent my younger years juggling school, gymnastics, and skiing. Gymnastics gave me a great platform for physical fitness and overall body awareness, for which I’ll forever be grateful. However after 5 hours a day, 5 days a week for five years, I had had enough of the hairspray-slicked back hair, the wedgies my leotards gave me, the bloody rips I got on my hands from the uneven bars, the cheesy floor routine music, being stretched in ways that should not be humanly possible, getting yelled at for having too much of a sway back, and well, just getting yelled at in general, and splitting the beam (which if you don’t know what this means, it essentially is when your foot slips as little as a quarter inch too far to the left or right and before you can do anything about it, you’re legs are on either side of the balance beam and your pelvic bone is screaming bloody murder). I think the most wearing part of this sport, however, and what really got me thinking – is this really how I want to spend my life – was the constant anxiety I felt from my coaches, the judges, and even my teammates for never being perfect enough, and the ensuing pressure that weighed on me every time I stepped foot in a gymnasium. At this point in my young career, I knew I was no longer doing it for myself and had entirely lost my passion for the sport. So, at age 11, just after having been moved up to Level 7, I was a gymnastics retiree. Despite my young age, I had grown up a great deal from the whole process. It had left me with a clear vision of what made me clique (and not clique) as not only an athlete, but as a human being. Like my mom has always said to me, when one door closes, another one opens. In this case, she couldn’t have been more spot on.

            The truth is, the door to skiing had always been open in my family. However, I never truly embraced this fact until I no longer had to feel ashamed for doing it…thanks to my gymnastics coaches for guilt tripping me into feeling bad about missing practice on the weekends. Sometimes I would put makeup on to cover up the goggle tan that I had acquired over the weekend to help minimize the brow beating I would get once back in the gym. That being said, much of my younger years as a skier was spent fretting over what my oppressive gym coaches were thinking rather than 100% living in the moment while ripping around Squaw Valley with all of my fellow Mighty Mighters. So once I called it quits on gymnastics, it was like I saw skiing in a whole new light and developed a newfound love for it. There was no judging, no scoring, no pressure. The only thing that mattered at Squaw was how fast you could get down the mountain. Although still quite young, I knew right then and there that skiing was my sport.

After all, it was my family’s sport. Since my grandparents built a house in Squaw after the 1960 Winter Olympic Games were held there, there was every reason to take advantage of it. It was a no brainer then that my dad, who grew up ski racing at Squaw, and my mom, who grew up ski racing at Stratton Mountain in Vermont, would pass along their passion for skiing on to my sister and me. They put us both on skis at the age of 2 and started us in Squaw Valley’s Mighty Mite program at the age of 4. Every weekend from December to April (and I mean every weekend), the four of us would get in the car once my dad got home from work on Friday night, make the three hour drive to our Squaw home, wake up in time Saturday morning to meet my Mighty Mites group at 8:30, take over the mountain until 2:30 (along with 2-3 breaks at the cookie shop depending on the day), ski with my parents from 2:30 to closing, and make the three hour drive back to Berkeley Sunday night. I think it is fair to say that my family was professional Weekend Warriors. Looking back on these years, I missed a lot of birthday parties, a lot of school events, and a lot of social time in general, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

            And here I am today, feeling the same way: no regrets! I am living the life I want to lead and loving it. Sure, I’ve had some tough times in the last few years, (physically and mentally), but who hasn’t? It’s part of life and especially a life full of high expectations, high energy, and high risk. All you can do is be the best you can be and always strive to be better.