Sept 7, 2005 – The Haywood Report is powered by Haywood Securities, Inc., a proud sponsor of Canada’s National Ski Teams.

I should start by saying that I have had nothing to do with the actual writing of this Haywood Report. Every week a member of the team posts an article about what we’ve been up to or offers some advice or perspective. This time it’s a little different. My Mom wrote this article. It’s her take on what it has been like having a son who loves to race and now having a daughter who is “givin’ ‘er” as well. I’m a big time momma’s boy who would not be where I am today if it weren’t for her help and guidance. I thought it would be interesting for a parent to offer some perspective instead of a punk athlete who is a poor writer. I hope you enjoy it.

I have just flipped the page on my Cross Country Canada calendar and the racers above my desk are bursting off the page. Suddenly, as I turn from August to September, the gentle pace of summer is ripped away from me and I face “racing season”. Holy Mackerel. Where do the seasons go? And this year, 2005 – 2006, will be especially exciting in the cross country ski community with two December World Cups in Canada and the Torino Olympics in February. To me, the calendar photo illustrates the emotional intensity, focus, drive, and determination, that ski racing generates. Each race contains its own mysterious mix of magic, physiology, voodoo, and psychology.

The magic of race day? As a parent, it may have been unfolding slowly. It has taken years of watching our goofy, distracted, preoccupied sons and daughters emerge from the fuzz of their adolescence, and grow a firm dedication to this, “their sport”. Somewhere between being teenagers and reaching the front of the Senior’s start line, they have been transformed into elite athletes: sleek, confident, balanced, and committed to the job they have set for themselves.

The physical training, of course, has been essential in the transformation of our youngsters. The attention paid to diet, to rest, to regimen, to heart rates, and lifestyle, over a period of time, helps them meet the challenges of high performance. When our daughters ask if they can buy kick wax rather than leg wax and our sons ask for ‘smoothies’, rather than ‘fries’, we understand that this ‘might be serious’. When they come home before 10 o’clock on a Friday night, quickly check the weather forecast before packing their bag for training the next morning, parents put down their books. When training days become as serious as race days, we begin to understand.

The voodoo of race day is also conjured by all who support the event. Track setters, race organizers, friends and sponsors each add some dimension to the mystique. The coaches, poring over waxes and irons and brushes, talk in early morning hushed tones. As they run back and forth with skis, in rhythm to the parking lot generator, they could be confused for monks chanting their mantra of snow temperature, ski structure, wind direction and humidity. Simultaneously, we witness the growing intensity and concentration on our athletes’ faces as they collect their bibs, huddle with team mates and engage in their pre-race rituals. And the psychology that unfolds on race morning? Ah. I have no idea. Or maybe I do have an inkling – but only with a view to its complexity. Inside each racer’s head sloshes his/her own remarkable potion of passion, chemistry, biology and concentration. And each racer must organize the distance between his/her ears along a personal grid of experience and internal dialogue.

“Racers: Take your place”. Beyond the glimpse of this photo lies a complex series of bigger stories. The event unfolds. Each skier must solve his/her own problems: the wrong ski, the wrong gloves, a tactical error, or the sinking feeling that they have eaten too much or too little for breakfast. Or perhaps, once underway, s/he takes the wrong turn, breaks a pole, loses a ski, or inexplicably “runs out of gas”. For some, the race will develop into a tale of glee, of personal bests, of goals surpassed. For others, it may end in disappointment and frustration.

The photo of a start line implies a finish line. Ultimately, whether it is a win, a loss, DNF or DNS, another transformation is still waiting. When all of the adrenalin and excitement of the race is exhausted, the post-race cool down is over and we are greeted with a tired smile, a lovely hug and sweet “Hi Mom”. Before they disappear with a group of friends, heading off for something to eat. My admiration does not waver.

To all racers getting ready for the first snow fall: “May the road rise up to meet you, May the wind always be at your back, May the sun shine warm upon you”… and if the magic of this Irish blessing isn’t working, well then, how about a simple: “Good luck!”