Chipmunks.

This year marks my daughter's first year as an Alyeska Mighty Mite. After a few years kicking around a very small ski bump and a year with their ski team, she moved to the big leagues and to the big mountain. She's coming from a hill where the snow is always groomed, the visibility is never bad, and the hill itself is nothing challenging once you get comfortable sliding. It develops certain habits in skiers who stay there too long, and she just wasn't progressing as much as I would have liked.
 
I am still a fan of that hill. I ran an adult racing league there for over 10 years, but like my daughter, it was time for me to move on to new opportunities. I decided that if she was going to move to Alyeska, so was I. I used to coach with the Alyeska Masters, and the old Masters head coach is now the Mighty Mite head coach, so I worked my connections and got us in the program. It's nice to know that I'm likely one of the slowest and least-credentialed coaches out there. It's actually reinvigorated my love of skiing.
 
To be honest, I was nervous about the Mighty Mite tryouts, and wondered if she was good enough to make the cut. I'd long ago decided I wasn't going to coach her, and instead be her ski buddy. I'd let other instructors and coaches teach her (with varying success), and limited my inputs to the rare reminder of what they had told her. If she wanted to do a power wedge at Mach 5, and was happy doing it, I wasn't going to correct her. However, the main flaw in my approach was that she had become a ski bump skier instead of a skier who could handle a variety of terrain. She had the basics, but she had never been never really challenged by coaches or terrain.
 
This winter has not been kind to Alaskan skiers. The Lower 48 got all of the cold weather and snow, and we got warm temperatures and rain. It was 24F in Phoenix when it was 44F in Anchorage. Alyeska has limited terrain open, all of it was at the top of the mountain, and all of it was on the advanced side. Now imagine doing Mighty Mite tryouts at that venue, as the mountain is packed with post-Christmas skiers and boarders with new equipment and questionable control. My nerves were shot.
 
Turns out, I worry a little too much, and she made it in. She's a Chipmunk, and as it turns out, I'm a Chipmunk coach. My little girl is going to improve in ways I could have never imagine as she chases her group all over the mountain. She's going to learn skills that will stick with her for the rest of her life, and she'll make friends that she'll likely ski with for decades. I really don't care if she races after she leaves the program, or if she ends up skiing far faster than her old man.
 
I just hope she wants to ski with me.

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