Staying Rad Post-Baby and Post-Injury: The Gnar Switch

There are times for this….

The moment happens usually on top of a snowy ridge somewhere, the wind blowing exactly the right direction, on a day when I really nailed the French press that morning and I’m wearing my favorite pair of underwear, the soft, stretchy purple ones that stay in the right place on my bun cheeks. Things are just feeling right. Someone suggests a line that’s just out of my comfort zone. Normally I would pass, shrugging it off with a nervous giggle and happily skiing the mellower powder line down the gut. But this day, a little switch flips and I know I’m going to ski the gnarlier line. My voice betrays my decision almost even before I realize I’m speaking out loud, “Yeah, I think I’m ready to drop in.”

That little sneaky decision moment is the Gnar Switch. I first heard the term from my friend Jess McMillan, who lives in Jackson Hole and has a HUGE Gnar Switch. We were in Alaska, filming for Warren Miller several years ago, and we had been taking it easy, working our way up and testing snow conditions, when she suddenly chose a big hairy spine line that where required racing her slough through a tight choke and airing over the bergshrund. She nailed the line, and I was like, “Dang, you really stepped it up!” She grinned, “My Gnar Switch finally turned on. I guess it works after all!”

…and times for this.

My own Gnar Switch has been re-calibrated many times over the years. There have been times when it’s been permanently set on “high,” and other times when I’ve wondered if it was completely misplaced, broken beyond repair. High gnar switch periods for me have historically coincided with high self-esteem, high ego-driven times when I could only see possibility and opportunity, when I felt I had something to prove. The low or non-existent gnar switch times have historically been for me after injury or life events where risk and consequence is forefront in my mind, or times of low-self esteem from other personal matters in my life. But sometimes out of nowhere I will get a wild hair and the switch just flips; and vice versa, sometimes everything is perfect and yet I’m just not feeling it.

I’m certainly not saying that one is better than the other. In fact, I’m really happy there have been ebbs and flows and times to go pedal to the metal and other times to pump the brakes. I think it’s natural and normal, and I know that some of the most successful athletes who continue to stay rad way into parenthood and beyond would credit those ebbs and flows with keeping them in the game. There’s no need for gnar, after all. We no longer as a species need to compete with saber-toothed tigers to chase down our dinner. But yet we still have something in us that compels us to push, physically and mentally, beyond what is comfortable.

I’m currently on a low gnar switch moment, thanks to the global pandemic. My motivation to get rad has been squashed, and I’m perfectly fine with that.

Before the pandemic, I was having a really good winter and working my way up, having mini gnar switch moments that felt good and right, while also being okay with saying no to things I wasn’t comfortable with. The difference for me now, and what I think has been the important lesson of all of this is that before, when I couldn’t locate or activate the gnar switch, I felt frustrated with myself, and down on my ability as a skier and a even sometimes as a person. But after a few injuries and having two kids, I’m much more okay with allowing the gnar switch to be more of a gnar dial—and the top end of the dial has been way dialed back from the risks I was willing to take at the beginning of my career. Which isn’t to say I don’t want to still try to get rad once in a while under the right conditions, because I do. The desire to have fun and chase the passion and the focus and the flow doesn’t just suddenly go away once you have a kid, or at a certain age for those who don’t have kids.

Know when to hold them, and when to drop in and send them. Or something like that.

Now my challenge is figuring out how to dial it to the proper setting, or if I need to cultivate it and actively seek it out. It has been more fun than ever for me to ski the past few years without wondering where my switch was and if it would show up. Instead of worrying about it or berating myself for not being rad enough, I’ve just gone skiing. It’s allowed me to get better at riding the waves, working my way up, and paying attention to when I’m feeling sore or just off. Those times, I just let it go and ski the powder line, enjoying every cushy second. Other times, if I’m feeling strong and the landing looks just perfect, then I might turn the dial a hair past zero and hit an air. I’m not saying I’m perfect at it by any means (see this post here, yikes), but I’m definitely trying way harder, and that’s the point of the gnar switch in the first place. It’s all about recognizing the innate need and the perfect time to rise above and go harder.

Which for me, is not now during a pandemic. I’ve had moments of disappointment about the ski season effectively ending right when it was getting good, but those are fully overridden by my thoughts on the current situation of the world. Each new day of this surreal and dreadful pandemic puts into perspective anew how minor a few months of skiing are in the bigger picture. So, my gnar switch shriveled right up for the time being, lost amid a flurry of anxieties and fears and concerns for my family and community and friends and the world. It will come back another time. I know how this goes. And in the meantime, that space is filled with every ounce of hope, resourcefulness, care, and positivity I can muster. I can shelve working at being the best skier I can be for the time being. Instead, I want to tap into that deep resource that helps me flip the switch in the mountains and use it to rise above and go harder as a human, when it counts.

Even setting up a tent can be an adventure when other adventures aren’t an option! Also when you have two toddlers helping.