Last winter we had a snow day and the girls were driving us up the wall. When I finally had my work done I told them to get their snow pants and boots on.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” I grunted as I dragged a sled up from the basement.
“Yay!”
There is a tiny hill outside our place. It’s perfect for little kids; a sled can’t go more than one hundred feet at best. An hour out there ought to burn off some of their nervous energy.
Our neighbor and his boy were already out there, the more the merrier! He offered to let Lyd try out his son’s snowboard. Lyd, always perky and eager for a new experience, jumped at it.
I braced myself, expecting wipe-outs, tears and snow burned cheeks.
That was not necessary. With a little instruction from our neighbor, Lyd was pretty much a natural. I was amazed as I watched how easily she took to it.
Unfortunately, that happened late in the winter, and we didn’t get much snow after that. For the next several months, Lydia mentioned snowboarding at least once a week. The closer we got to this winter, the more often she mentioned snowboarding. The closer to Christmas, and the subject was brought up at every dinner. She sat on Santa’s lap and told him she wanted one for Christmas.
Lo and behold, on Christmas morning she got what she wanted. We led her to concluding she didn’t get one. When she realized that was not the case, her reaction was priceless.
Two weeks later, our neighbor stopped me to tell me that he and his son were going to the local ski hills. He invited me and Lyd along too.
“Sure! She’s been chomping at the bit!”
We went on the kid’s trail, the bunny trail. I had convinced myself that last year was a fluke, and that the tears would be happening that evening.
I was once again proven wrong. She looked incredible out there! She looked like she’d been doing this for a solid couple of years.
I stood at the top of the hill, filming her while again, being amazed at how good she was looking out there.
I glanced over at the twenty-something-year-old employee who was in charge of the bunny hill.
“How’s she looking out there?”
“Not bad.”
“You know, this is pretty much the first time she’s done this.”
“Hmm.”
Dude! Humor me here! I’m being a proud papa! Tell me she’s incredible. Tell me she’s a prodigy, that she’s a natural. Tell me she’ll be an X-Games Star! Tell me she’ll be an Olympian!
Nothing. He just kept staring out at the bunny hill, making sure kids weren’t falling over and crying—doing his job actually. I made an attempt at snowboard shop-talk, a subject I am grossly unqualified at. I was hoping to learn a thing or two.
“What do you think of her board? Did we get one that’s the correct size?”
“Looks like a decent fit. It’s a pretty slow board, good one to learn on.”
Well at least I’ll have something quantifiable to bring Home, along with these videos. A number of friends and family will soon be suffering through these.

Proud Papa bias set aside, she really does look pretty good out there. She’s looking good enough where I’ll be looking into lessons. I like her having an outdoor activity in winter. It could be pretty handy really. I can drive her out to the ski hill, she snowboards for a couple hours while I go to the lobby, fire up my laptop and get some writing done.
I’m kind of excited about this whole snowboarding thing. Is it obvious?
My imagination has run wild, I’ve been picturing competitions, national ranking…even the Winter Olympics!
Or…it can just become a fun hobby for her.
We made it a point to watch the snowboarding events with Lydia at the Winter Olympics this year.
“They make it look so easy!”
“Yes Lyd, they do.”
I went on, But Lyd, these young woman practiced! They had lots of practice. And they all started on the bunny hill just like you.” Lyd was especially interested in the slopestyle. One of the competitors wiped out, “Lyd! Do you see what just happened? She fell! She is one of the world’s greatest snowboarders! And she, just, fell.” Lyd watched her get back up, the snowboarder was smiling.
“Why is she smiling? She fell.”
Grinning, I replied, “Probably because she knows how not to fall next time! Lydie, think about this: that lady, that snowboarder, she probably had to fall one thousand times before she was able to land. Wiping-Out isn’t a bad thing, it’s just another way to not land!”
She was starting to get it. Internally I was fist-pumping. I Love it when I sound smart and wise in front of my kids! I continued watching the Olympics, replacing the faces of the competitors with a teenaged version of Lyd’s face, picturing her name next to the American Flag up there on the television.
Later that week, Shaun White was scheduled for the half-pipe. Annie and I watched it together after the girls went to bed.
He had a pretty nasty accident last year in New Zealand. I remember hearing about it, I remember hearing he was going to be okay. I moved on. Leading up to the competition, they played that accident. It looked horrible. His injuries required sixty-two stitches on his face and in his mouth…in his mouth. He was barely recognizable.
It was a horrible thing to watch. Annie spoke to it, her words hit pretty hard. “His Mom had to watch that.” I stared at the television, pensive. There he was holding a blood-soaked rag to his face, being transported on the helicopter to the hospital. I thought about Lydia, my Lydiebug, getting her own beautiful little face shattered.
The glory of victories abruptly changed to stitches, to ice packs, to leg casts, arm casts, bruises, cuts, scrapes and more heartbreaking losses than I could count. The initial fantasies about Lydia being a snowboarder tentatively approached me and tugged at my sleeve. I shrank away from them, chilled to my core.
I was no longer watching as a fan. I was watching as a parent. These are more than competitors, they are sons and daughters. Every one of these competitors were Loved and nurtured into existing, into making it this far…making it to a worldwide stage. Every one of these competitors has a Mom or a Dad watching them. These parents have been watching their children fail and succeed since the child could crawl. My words to Lyd echoed back to me, “She had to fall a thousand times before she was able to land.” I realized that there was, still is, a Mom or a Dad who felt that jolt of pain along with them, who fell each time along with their children.
I continued watching the interview with Shaun White about his comeback from those injuries. He said, “I was thinking, ‘Do you really want to pursue this?’ If you think about me stepping back out on the snow, it means that I’m willing to have that happen again, so it’s a big commitment.”

It means he’s willing to have that happen again. It means his parents must also be willing to watch that happen to their son again. Everything! His birth, his first crawl, his first steps, his first success at potty training, his first days of school, his first snowboard, thousands of hugs, must have flashed through their minds as they watched their son’s face slam into the edge, as they watched his limp body roll and slide to the bottom of the half-pipe.
I read that there are 2,952 competitors in this year’s Winter Olympics. That means there are at the very least, 2,952 Moms, Dads and Guardians who had to let go and let their sons and daughters…fly.
“They make it look so easy!”
“Yes Lyd they do. So do the athletes!”