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Letter from Andes Hruby

Competitors with Character by Andes Hruby

I have spent the better part of the past decade screaming “WAREFUL!” This neologism slipped out of my mouth because I was trying to say “Watch Out” and “Careful” at the same moment. This was the decade I became a parent. I focused solely on intervention, manners, cleanliness, hygiene, germs, and safety, safety, safety. My daughter barely mounted her tricycle without looking like an astronaut or an armored knight.

As a parent after organizing my own police state of safety I have allowed her to go few places without my “hover mother” arms length. Of course some of this has to do with her gene pool. After learning to run her idea of fun was to launch herself into four lane traffic and watch all the cars screech to a halt while she giggled: as a result I bought her a leash.

When I asked if she would like to attend the Second Annual Christmas Ski Jump Camp her eyes lit up.

“Will Ken be there?” Ken Barker, SWSA president and USSA Ski jump Official.
“Yes.”
“Nicole?” Nicole Lenshaw, coach and USSA Ski jump Official.
“Yes.”
I watched her eyebrows dip toward her nose and wrinkle, “And you?”
“I’ll leave as soon as you get your boots and…”
“…helmet on,” she said with a sassy smile.

The previous year she had participated in the two-day camp but a second year meant she was taking an actual interest. I was fascinated and scared. My first instinct was confirm friends from the year before were coming back. The first people I contacted were Caroline and Peter Gilbert of Salisbury. Their son Caleb and my daughter Eve Arenal had gone to Puddle Jumpers daycare together and reconnected with a jovial competitors friendship at last years camp. The Gilbert’s and I had shared many frozen finger moments. We would go on to become traveling buddies, friends on a journey, support systems, and share a deep sense of camaraderie, strength and laughter. In the Ski jump community our families were soon recognized as Team SWSA. People appreciated we drove for hours, spent our money supporting small town economies, and were growing in dedication to a sport that demands not just physical agility but intense psychological commitment. As a woman who grew up scraping my knees on concrete curbs in New York City and being terrified of temperatures below freezing I was currently a flag-waving aficionado of the Salisbury Ski Jump. Previously lost and depressed for many winters I now felt a deep sense of belonging to the Team of SWSA.

The SWSA Team provides the jump camp to build basic skills for newcomers and talented skiers. After the campers scale the landing hill by edging into the icy slope they are encouraged to place their skis parallel, winch their arms behind them like capes, and race down the hill. Do not “sit back and read the paper” or surely your skis will slide ahead of you and your body will fall behind your heels: a wipeout of massive proportion follows or as Ken refers to it: a “tag sale.” If after mastering those tasks without falling then the campers are allowed to attempt the jump. The first day is sometimes a painful process of exhilaration elimination. There are no rope tows or magic carpets here. One last run means these kids walk 57 slippery wooden steps carrying their skis to the mid-station, take a breathe get a quick lesson from their coaches and then climb at least 35 more feet to the top.

Participating in the Ski Jump Camp comes with much more then a two-day experience and hot lunch perks. Ken and various SWSA board members commit to training local participants every weekend morning and afternoon until the Invitational Championships and Ski Jump festival. They continue the support by providing scholarships and financial assistance for Summer Camps in Lake Placid, jump suits, skis, gear, and most important an avenue outside the electronic screen of isolation. I no longer envision a winter without Ski Jumping in Salisbury. As a Team SWSA parent I have learned a new meaning of the word: speed and it includes the word control.

Being part of Team SWSA provides our community with the chance to continue an irreplaceable local tradition. For every new parent welcomed into the warm hut by Ken Barker, Reggie Lamson, or Jack Phelps there is the twinkle of knowledge that someone in the crowd will become a fan, a fanatic, a warrior and a maybe even a silver cup winner.

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