Canoe and Kayak Female Paddler Of The Year: Nouria Newman. But Why Was Jessica Fox Not Included?

Okay, it’s that time of year when Canoe and Kayak asks the public to pick who’s the best female and male paddler. But honestly, this vote is like comparing apples to oranges or in this case rodeo to extreme racers to slalom racers to ambassadors—extremely different categories that are incomparable. Regardless Canoe and Kayak wants us to, so let’s do this!

Who will I vote for? Simple. Nouria Newman. Why? Simple answer again. She is the most diverse and accomplished female paddler this world has ever seen.

Okay let’s start with possibly her most famous extreme achievement: Site Zed. Her line through this famous and terrifying rapid should be a Visa commercial—the inspirational kind you see before the Olympics. So few women have ever done something this extreme in any sport with such incredible talent, grace, and perfect technique. Whitewater kayaking rarely gets the spotlight, but regardless of the lack of hype around this moment, history was made on the day Nouria ran Site Zed.

Let me take you to the Stikine, a river that should give even the best paddlers in the world nightmares. You enter a canyon so remote and so desolate. If some one dies in there, their buddies will have to hike the body out if they can find it—no one is coming for you. And I’m not trying to be dramatic, it’s the truth. And then enter Site Zed. Halfway into the trip you come across a rapid that very few paddlers, all male, have ever paddled. This is not a waterfall anyone can huck their meat off and hope for the best. It's a rapid that can only be paddle by the absolute best technical paddlers in the world. And Nouria not only paddled it—she styled it. Case closed—she’s the best female kayaker in the world.

Oh but wait there’s more: Nouria is also a member of the French National Women’s Slalom Team. The dedication, the intense mental and physical training it takes to make the French Women’s Slalom Team is possibly one of the single hardest things for a female kayaker to achieve in the grand sport of kayaking. The French slalom women are the absolute best of the best. Absolutely no one can doubt their technical perfection on the river. If you find yourself on a podium surrounded by French women you have achieved greatness in the sport, and Nouria is a member of this elite group. Again, case closed—Nouria’s the best kayaker in the world.

Oh—I can’t believe it—there is still more. Nouria has won two Slalom World Championship medals. Now we can say Nouria is the most accomplished paddler in the world—male or female. I believe the only two men that have as diverse of a resume are Mike Dawson and Vavra Hradilek. And yes, any video (click here for an awesome one) of these boys makes my heart flutter at how incredibly amazing and hot these two are, but sorry boys Nouria’s cuter and I’m pretty sure at least one of you has not run Site Zed and the other has no World Championship medals;)

Wait again, there is still more—Nouria placed 8^th in the North Fork Payette race, yes the race that takes a boater through Jacob’s Ladder and Golf Course—rapids that make most boaters look for the nearest bathroom after they scout them because they literally scare the poop out of you. She beat famous paddlers like Nick Troutman and Rush Sturges. Let me repeat myself—she beat Rush Sturges one of the most accomplished boaters in the world for the past decade. Again, case closed—she's the best.

However, before I close out this post, I would like to call out a serious misstep in this list. The fact that Jessica Fox was not included means that whoever created this list should pack up and go home.

It kills me, but I wasn’t there when Jessica Fox became the first person—male or female—to win both C-1 and K-1 at a single World Championships, but don’t fret. Kara Weld, my hero and role model in the sport when I was growing was there and can tell the story.

Last September, I got to witness Jessica Fox make slalom history by winning the 2014 World Championships in both C-1 and K-1 in Deep Creek, MD, USA. This was not only remarkable in her skills and fitness in both disciplines, but in her ability to handle the tremendous amount of pressure as the last K-1 run of the day. Adding to the intensity, 25 years earlier, her mother and father had both won gold medals in the last World Championships held in the US on the nearby Savage River.   

All eyes were on Jessica and she stomped out a flawless run to take the win. I'll never forget watching her finesse and determination as she seemed to be building momentum for the win gate after gate. I knew she was going to nail it, without a single doubt. You could just sense it. I've stood by the side of a slalom course a huge portion of my life. I've seen a lot of spectacular runs and a lot of ruined dreams. I'll never forget that day, that run and what the air felt like while witnessing excellence to that extreme.

In my opinion, Jessica Fox's performance at the 2014 World Championships was arguably one of the greatest achievements in the sport of kayaking. She should have been included on this list. Please click here and here (scroll down past Formula 1 Driver) to see some quick clips of Jessica. I love her quote, “You can get carried away with the thought of winning. Sometimes you want it so much you can be blinded.”  

But even if she was included on this list would I have voted for her over Nouria? I asked Kara Weld the same question and here is her response:

Given that, Nouria would still get my vote this year. She is pushing the boundaries of women in the sport more so than any other female paddler. Running Site Zed and her performance in the NFC to me are unparalleled.

For me, it would have been a really hard decision between Nouria and Jessica. Comparing Nouria’s Site Zed and NFC to Jessica’s K-1 and C-1 victories is like comparing a NASCAR driver to a Formula 1 driver. With that said, Nouria gets my vote because of her vast spectrum of accomplishments in both extreme and slalom kayaking. But hopefully we get to see both Nouria and Jessica racing at the 2016 Olympic Games and let the clock decide.

It’s interesting to note that the World Paddle Awards, an organization that also recognizes the greatest male and female athletes in paddlesports, nominated both Nouria and Jessica (only overlap in Canoe and Kayak’s and World Paddle Award’s lists was Nouria). But Nouria didn’t even make the finale and Jessica, although a finalist, didn’t win. Please click here to see the World Paddle Awards winners.

Both the World Paddle and Canoe and Kayak Awards are great because they honor many talented athletes in this great sport, but no one person, no one organization is the authority on who’s the best. In my cheesy opinion it’s only the rivers that truly know and no one is getting them to reveal their secrets. 

Please join me in honoring the women nominated by Canoe and Kayak by voting here.

Additional Video Clips:

Nouria Newman’s Site Zed run can be viewed here. And just to add a quick note. Videos always make the river look smaller. This rapid is huge and scarier than meeting a great white shark up close. I can’t find video coverage of her silver Slalom World Championship run, but here is an interview of her after. For another great video of why Nouria kayaks please click here.

PS: I haven't seen Jessica Fox since she was three and I've never met Nouria before. Please just give these ladies a huge hug and high five for me and thank them for being such an inspiration.  

ADDED 7/15/15

I'm honored that Nouria responded to this post. She sums up beautifully what greatness truly means: 

Sweet blog post about the Canoe & Kayak Magazine Awards, thanks for the support Sarah Leith Bahn.

Reading this blog post made me realise it's been a great year paddling but it's also been one of the hardest year of my life. I can deal with the hard times at school, bad slalom races, shoulder surgery, rehab, not making the team...it's okay. But loosing friends on the river hurts way more than anything else. 

If I had to vote a female paddler of the year I would pick Louise Jull. Because it's not all about racing fast, running big drops or any other personal success but also about what you're able to give, how you interact and inspire people. Anyone who knew Lulu know how big of an inspiration she was, still is and will always be. 

I might never go to the Olympics and I might never win a race again but I will follow my dreams, make sure I live life to the fullest and spend as much time as possible with the people I love. I will live rad like Lulu and this is way better than any award.Miss you Lulu, thanks for being such a good friend and inspiration. Lulu 

Is It Worth It?

I had a close friend ask me the other day – “Is it worth it?” I knew immediately what she was referring to even though she didn’t define it. She was asking, was it worth training for the Olympics even though you didn’t make it.

With the Winter Olympics here, I too find myself thinking about the solid 12 years I spent trying to make the Olympic Team in the sport of Whitewater Slalom. I think about the countless hours I spent on the river dodging poles and pulling with all my strength. I think about the shoulder pain I endured for years and the ridiculous amount of Advil I took. I think about how, despite my dedication, I didn’t have the perfect athletic genes and was nuts to think I could have ever achieved such a goal. I think about how incredibly hard I was on myself workout after workout. I think about how truly demoralized I could make myself feel when I didn’t race well. I think about all those lost opportunities I could have pursued had I not raced – an MBA, better career, more money. I think about all the times I spent away from friends and family to get just one more workout in, go to one more training camp, or make one more race on some far corner of the world…

And then I think about how for a decade-plus everything I did was to achieve one goal – make the Olympic Team and how I failed.

So – was it worth it? Absolutely – every second. Many of my moments of training were hard and painful, but so many more were great and amazing. I might not be the perfect specimen of an athlete, but I am truly driven and to have had the opportunity to channel that drive into a sport that took place on majestic rivers around the world was an absolute dream come true.

But almost more importantly, now that the dust has settled and my mind has aged, I think about how failing to achieve one of my greatest desires was still truly a beautiful moment in my life.

Despite Whitewater Slalom being a summer Olympic Sport, the 2000 Olympic Team Trials were held on a freezing early spring weekend in Tennessee. I remember low hanging thick clouds threatening to snow. I remember walking up to the start gate, placing my ultra-slick, little-white kayak in the water, and feeling the cold river lap up on my toes and shocking my body. And I remember being scared shitless. I was so nervous. I wanted puke. I wanted to cry. And I wanted to get the hell out of my boat and drive away. I hated start gates, but the Olympic start gate brought on more bile acid and fear than anything I had ever experienced before. And start gates for Whitewater Slalom races were already rattling at best. Often the water of the river was swirling underneath the hull of your boat while you tried to keep yourself steady and focused on the course before you that drop down into huge waves and holes with little tiny poles that hung down from the sky that you had to duck and dive your kayak under and around… Whitewater Slalom was intimidating enough and with my dreaded fear of the start gate, I have no idea why I ever entered any races. But here I was, at Olympic Team Trails absolutely freezing cold and painfully sick to my stomach. But as soon as I heard go, and got to the other side of the start gate, my stomach released and my mind was free. I knew I was where I belonged – in the race. I paddled my little white kayak as fast as I could and although in one split second at the bottom of the course I screwed up, the other 99% of my run was as perfect as I could have dreamed for. 99% of my run was perfection and 1% wasn’t, and although that gut wrenching 1% cost me the Olympics, fourteen years later I truly see the beauty in the fact that I went through the start gate and participated. (See Plans Suck for a more detail account of my actual race run).

I’ve always struggled with start gates in every aspect of my life. I remember lying in a hospital bed in searing labor pain with my first son Wyatt, and the doctor telling me to push – in my opinion, the official start gate to motherhood. I didn’t want to push! I was so scared to become a mother. When the doctor told me a second time to push, I yelled at her! “I’m not doing this! I’m leaving." But thankfully, because of my swollen belly and inability to walk, I had no choice and Wyatt entered this world and gave me the greatest title in the world, Mama. As soon as I held Wyatt in my arms, I was living the dream – I was participating in motherhood.

Publishing my first book was also the same way. Writing the book was fun, but entering the start gate was horrifying – sharing my book with readers and letting them judge my work was an extremely terrifying start gate. I remember it well – I was sitting in my parent’s kitchen, it was mid-night on December 21st. It was just my computer monitor and the Christmas tree lights lighting up the room. It took me many second guessing and sickening minutes to hit the enter button on my keyboard and make my book available online to the world to purchase and download, but as soon as I hit the button, I felt a huge release. I was in the game. I was participating and it felt amazing. And by no means I now find success as an author – far from it – but I am still in the game and able to channel my drive and desires.

My point to this post is, our goals and desires can be incredibly hard to achieve, but the biggest hurdle and most scary part is the start gate. Just get to the start gate, close your eyes, bite down hard, and get through it. Once you get through the start gate you can start living, and even when you fail, you can still find greatness in participation.

Don’t get me wrong, till this day when I see a start gate – regardless of whether it’s the enter button on my keyboard, the long walk from my car to the front door of my new job, the turning of a doorknob to a new house in a new state, or the actual start gate at a race – I get nauseous. I’m still so scared of going through a start gate, but every time I do its 100% worth it.

Over the next two weeks, NBC is only going to show you the victories. They are going to paint dramatic pictures of athletes that achieve greatness and are awarded shinny medals. And these moments are inspiring, but it’s so far from the whole picture. Every single one of these athletes are just like all of us – when they enter the start gate they have no idea what the outcome will be – and just like we have the ability to do in our own lives with our own dreams – they go through the start gate.

As my Dad has always said, “Just get in the game!”

Happy Olympic Days Everyone! Much Love, Sarah 

For those of you who are curious about whitewater slalom click here for a great video on the sport.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle

I ain’t scared

Two days ago I posted the following statement on Facebook:

Seeking Advice: Finn (1-year-old) has been sleeping in our closet his whole life. We were thinking its time to move him out of the closet... And into Wyatt's room with Wyatt (4-years-old). Wyatt will not be moving into the closet just incase that needed to be clarified. This shouldn't be complicated. I know I should just throw Finn in with Wyatt and hope for the best, but SLEEP - its a precious commodity I don't want to lose any more of. Current problems: (1) Wyatt sleeps with the closet light on, Finn sleeps in the pitch black. (2) Wyatt basically jumps around his crib (yes he still sleeps in a crib) making boom banging noises for about an hour before he falls asleep. I'm not sure Finn will stay sleeping during Wyatt's reenactment of Lightning McQueen's beat down of Francesco. (3) It's not unordinary for Finn to wake up at 5:30 whaling (it's such a wonderful moment when Ryan and I lovingly look into each others eyes and peacefully decide who's getting up, NOT). Wyatt sleeps till 6:15. Any advice on making the transition to the boys being in the same room will be GREATLY appreciated.

Although there were multiple hysterical and informative replies, one reply stuck out from the rest, Cyd Franken’s who is the wife of a wonderful man, Tao “Richter” Franken – a true adventurer with a devilish smile who passed away very recently at much too young of an age. Cyd wrote:

Tao and I chucked Trina into Kai’s room early… As Tao would say, I ain’t scared.

Let’s rewind here to four years early when I probably last spoke to Richter by phone. I was pregnant with Wyatt and walking along the wooded and richly green C&O canal just outside Washington DC. For reasons I can’t remember he had a few questions about Potomac Festival, a local whitewater event  – those were quickly answered and small talk ensued. Being as I was waddling along in my oversized state, and honestly, a little scared about what was growing in my belly, I asked Richter if I would survive parenthood. “Parenthood?” Richter balked. “That’s easy.” I laughed. Richter didn’t. He meant it.

I hung up the phone a little confused. Richter for all practical purposes had earned the right to have an opinion on parenthood. He had two kids that were at the time of the conversation a toddler girl and a young son who was already boofing waterfalls. He had earned his stripes. And yet, he was the only one out of all the parents I knew that was telling me that parenthood was easy…

Cyd’s reply to my Facebook post two days ago finally made Richter's answer of four years earlier make sense. “I ain’t scared,” a phrase I heard Richter say countless times from the back of the Proctor High School kayak van where he and my brother – two wild and untamed teenagers – would sit dreaming of their college days ahead when they would run huge waterfalls in between classes.  And I’m sure as the years went by Richter said it on his approach to the world’s tallest peaks and the deepest canyons. It too became a motto of my brother’s and mine. We would often quote Richter with an equally devilish grin before we headed out into the backcountry of Wyoming for a ski adventure, or at the put in of some wild river. But as the years went by I said it less and eventually forgot it completely.

When my brother called me a few months ago and could barely talk in between sobs telling me that his best friend, his roommate for years, and his true brother had died of sleep apnea next to his son in their tent on an innocent camping trip I was shocked. I didn’t move. I didn’t talk. I just let the gushing sobs from my brother bring me into his misery. I thought about his wife, his son, his daughter and I too sobbed at the simple fact that he was gone.

As I sit here now, I realize with no doubt in my mind that Richter greeted death with his wonderful grin and said, “This is much too early, but I ain’t scared.” And thanks to Cyd, I am reminded of how powerful this simple phrase is. Fear is toxic – it prevents love, it prevents humor, it prevents the true joy that can be experienced in life.

Before I posted about moving Finn into Wyatt’s room, I was scared! I was DREADING the pure exhaustion that would ensue from potential sleepless nights of worrying over whether Wyatt would smother Finn with a pillow, or chuck a toy at Finn’s head leaving him with a gushing wound, or simply if the boys would sleep. It’s the same stupid fear that consumes me at the entrance to the grocery store with both boys in tow knowing the all-to-soon melt down from Wyatt will emerge when I tell him we can’t buy six boxes of cookies.

But Richter’s phrase, “I ain’t scared,” snapped me out of this worthless state of fear. Upon seeing Cyd’s post I immediately went into action. I took a few necessary precautions by removing from the boys’ room all pillows and sharp-pointy toys that could suffocate or impale, threw the boys into the same room, and merely chuckled when I left their room and closed the door to their first night of sleeping together. And yes, I didn’t sleep. And yes, the boys barely slept. And yes, both boys and both parents were cranky monster after a night of no sleep, but the boys did have a blast laughing and playing together, and Ryan and I did laugh the next morning despite the fact we had to call the doctor at 5AM because we overdosed Finn on Tylenol. By all means it was a miserable night, but because I wasn’t scared I could embrace humor and the love from my crazy boys and as a result have the time of my life. 

I will never again forget Richter’s phrase because when Wyatt gets his drivers license or worse his motorcycle license – I just shivered and gagged – I will chant, “I ain’t scared” and beat back fear with a whopping bat.

Richter, I still don’t believe you – parenthood is hard, but it is a lot easier, and more importantly, full of a lot more love, fun and meaning when you’re not scared. Thank you Richter for always giving me that devilish smile above huge waterfalls and saying, “I ain’t scared.” At times I thought you were crazy. Now I know you were just smarter than the rest of us. I love you and I miss you.

To dear Cyd, thank you for reminding me of your husband’s most perfect phrase. From here on out, this Mama ain’t scared!

For those of you that have been touched by Richter's life like I was a fund has been set up to help support Richter's two children, Trina and Kai. Please click here for more information.

 

Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live the world they have been given, rather than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It is an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It is a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing. - John Maxwell, Tao-Richter's favorite quote

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle

Plans Suck

Plans suck, but its June and everyone is graduating and everyone needs a plan!

I’ve always thought it was extremely important to have a plan. I don’t know if it was my parents, teachers, or coaches that told me this. Or maybe I heard it in my commencement address… Regardless, I thought plans were important.

When I graduated from high school at 18 – with the sun shinning on me while I sat charged and excited all dressed in white – I came up with the following plan while tuning out my commencement speaker:

Graduate from college with a 4.0 and make U.S. Olympic Team by 23-years-old. Retire from sport. Work fulltime for three-five years. Get MBA at Sterns School of Business before 30^th birthday. Then become the best financial analyst the world has ever known. That was my plan, and I was going to stick to my plan. Everyone sticks to their plan, right?

It wasn’t until I was 33 and in labor with my first son that I realized plans are worthless. You see, when you’re pregnant the doctor tells you to write out a labor plan that will detail how you want your labor to go. Perfect I thought – this is what I want: (1) No drugs – I’m super tough, how hard can labor really be? And, (2) I want my husband at my side caressing my head and counting the seconds during each contraction. Easy, right? Contractions are suppose to last about 60-90 seconds and then you rest for about a minute while your husband gazes lovingly upon you before it starts all over again. Labor was going to be like a 10-hour intense and painful mountain climb with my devoted husband at my side. PLEASE – at 7AM contraction number one started, and never stopped, or so I felt. After wanting absolutely NO ONE to touch me, talk to me, or even look at me, I had a baby in my arms at 9AM. I didn’t breathe through my two-hour-long single contraction – I screamed at the top of my lungs. Remember how I said I was tough and didn’t need drugs? Well I screamed for drugs while literally foaming at the mouth! My husband said I sounded like a crack addict begging for anything to just take the edge off, and no one brought me anything, and I was pissed!

My labor plan, just like all my plans, was worthless. Let’s scroll back to my original plan because as you can see having a kid at 33 wasn’t part of that plan. It was 2000, I was 23, and the Olympics were in three months, but first I had to make the U.S. Olympic Team at U.S. Team Trials. In the sport of whitewater slalom (my sport) one female from the U.S. would be able to race in the big games. U.S. Team Trials, day one: I crossed the finish line with the fastest time. I was in first. A good start to a three-day race. Day two: I had another great run going. In the last 30 seconds I crossed a wave, caught my edge, and flipped over – breathing water in the sport of whitewater slalom is not fast. My dreams of making the Olympic Team were over. Literally – in that split second when I flipped the first part of my plan I’d had since I was five-years-old was gone – gone.

At the finish line I was embraced by my brother who said, don’t worry there is always the next Olympics. I nodded. He was right. Maybe I could just extend my plan to include another four years of training. I was only 23. Why was I rushing off to Wall Street? I had about 60 undergrad credits left. I could finish college while training for the next Olympics and then get a job and then get an MBA and then become the best financial analyst in the world. It was settled – that was what I was doing.

Again – plans are worthless. Trying to make the Olympic Team and go to college at the same time was a stupid plan. I half-fasted both. I did graduate with a 3.98, but I missed out on key internships that would have greatly increased my career in lieu of World Cup competitions. And my training suffered greatly too. I showed up at the 2004 Olympic Trials a shadow of what I was in 2000. I still ended up second, but my rival who had beaten me in 2000 ran away with the Olympic spot and went on to win the Silver Medal in Athens (click here for my rival's amazing story).

Less than two weeks after racing at Olympic Team Trials in Athens, Greece, I started working at the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) in Washington DC. I was 27. I still wanted to get my MBA before I was 30, but I couldn’t get into a top MBA School without at least three solid years of work experience before applying. My plan was pushed out – I would work at the SEC till I was 30 and then head off for my MBA.

I’m laughing out loud right now – that plan was completely worthless. The ultimate plan ruinner happened – love. I fell in love with Ryan, my best friend and started dating him in early 2005. Ryan, having tried to make the Olympic Team as well, wouldn’t be done with his undergrad for another three years. I wasn’t willing to get my MBA in Washington DC. I wanted to get it in NYC where I would eventually walk Wall Street as one of the best, so my MBA got pushed back again. A marriage and pregnancy later, I realized that I was never moving to NYC to get my MBA.

In 2009, at 36 weeks pregnant, I threw out all plans when my husband and I moved to Hood River, Oregon, a tiny town on the Columbia River. I had my last day at the SEC on a Friday, got on a plane to Portland on Saturday, and waddled off the plane with my swollen belly determined to come up with a new plan. Surely I could still become the best financial analyst while living in Hood River with no MBA and a newborn…

Four weeks later when my labor plan completely failed me, I had my glowing revelation that plans are not only worthless, they suck. And I want to tell everyone this because its June and in June everyone graduates from either college, high school, middle school, elementary school, and even pre-school and each kid has to come up with a plan – their next move – their path to success. I have a great buddy that’s 14-years-old. He will be a Freshman in high school next year and he has to decide right now whether to take Algebra II and Geometry together during his Freshman year. If he doesn’t, he will not be able to take Calculus his Senior year, and if he doesn’t take Calculus his Senior year he might not be able to get into his college of choice, and if he doesn’t get into his college of choice, he might not be able to get a top engineering job, and if he doesn’t get a top engineering job, he might not be able to invent disappearing dog poop spray, and if he can’t invent disappearing dog poop spray, he definitely won’t be able to invent disappearing cat poop spray… (Did you ever see that stupid moive?) The later example is supposed to shed light on how quickly plans can get silly. Try this on for size: My 14-year-old buddy doesn’t take Algebra II and Geometry at the same time, and he doesn’t get to take AP Calculus his Senior year, and he doesn’t get into MIT, but he does get into University of Washington, and because he went to University of Washington and not MIT he met his best friend, and together with his best friend on one random night when neither of them had any plans of any sort they figure out how to reverse the acidification of the ocean and save the Great Barrier Reef.

My point is: Dare to imagine your next achievement when your plan doesn’t work.

Now, if you really most know – I still make plans because I do believe plans are important - doesn’t mean they don’t still suck - but they guide us, push us, and inspire us. However, if you are like me, be prepared to ditch them because all plans expire the second you take action. And in the second they expire, keep your mind open so you can see the next opportunity that is dangling in front of you.

PS – when your plans don’t happen the following side affects may happen:

1) Tears – its devastating when plans don’t work out. Many tears were shed when I didn’t make the Olympic Team. However, thanks to my failed Olympic attempt, I am that much more devoted to seeing my plans to become a writer come true.

2) Humble Pie – It doesn’t taste good, but when your plans don’t work out you usually get a slice and often emerge a better person. This year when my son attended Pre-School Graduation, my plan for the night did NOT entail my perfect three-year-old son taking a closed fist to a little girl’s head and making her sob. When I told my friend – who happens to be the mother of the 14-year-old that I mentioned above – she said the sooner you realize parenting is the most humbling and unplanned journey of your life, the better and more understanding parent you will be.

3) Revelations – Failure is a good thing. Every single time you fail, you do emerge with more knowledge and better chance of success in your next plan. Remember: Dare to imagine your next achievement when your plan doesn’t work.

4) Listen to your commencement speaker: I bet if I had listened to my commencement speaker she probably had mentioned something about the perfect plan never working out and how that’s a good thing:) 

Me racing at the 2004 U.S. Olympic Team Trials.

Me and Ryan in 2005. And yes, Ryan came with the 90 pound wolf-like dog.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Monthly Goodness: Life is Not Always Fair

In my biography on my website, I wrote that the number one thing I learned from racing was: life is not always fair, but fairness does not have to control your ability to be happy or your ability to succeed.

I think that there is no better person that has proved this point than Whitewater Slalom Olympic Silver Medalist Rebecca Giddens. Rebecca is one of my dearest and closest friends.

In 1999 Rebecca and I were both racing for the U.S. National Team at the World Championships in Seu d'Urgell, Spain. In the team competition we shocked everyone when together with our other teammate, Mary Marshall Seaver we won the Silver Medal.  It was a great moment for the three of us as we were the total underdogs and came out of nowhere. This moment, however, was quickly overshadowed by a horrible and unfair incident.

A day later we all raced in the individual category for the much coveted World Championship Title. In yet another underdog performance, Rebecca came out of nowhere and posted the second fastest time earning herself a World Championship Silver Medal. I will never forget looking up at that scoreboard and seeing Rebecca’s name only one down from the top. I sat down and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t move. I was so impressed, overwhelmed, and a wee bit jealous that Rebecca had accomplished something we had all dreamed of achieving since we were little. This joy was unfortunately short lived. Right before the awards ceremony, Rebecca was stripped of her silver medal by a judging call of the most unfair nature.

I will not get into why the judges ruled to remove Rebecca’s silver medal – the politics involved in this judging call make my fingers burn as I write, but I will say this: there had never been a judging call like this one before, and because the judging call was so unfair rules were immediately implemented to ensure there would never be a judging call like this again. Let me repeat, there was nothing right or fair or decent about the judging call to remove Rebecca’s medal.

Can you imagine having dreamed of this kind of success your whole life, having worked so incredibly hard, and then having put it all together in the race of your life and wining the silver medal for it only to be taken away hours later by a political call of spite, indecency, and illegality?

Rebecca could have let this moment ruin her – burn her up inside and make her want to turn her back on whitewater slalom forever. I’m sure she thought about it. But, instead she put her head down and started training for the next World Championships, which wouldn’t be till three years later.

In 2002 we found ourselves at the World Championships in Bourg Saint Maurice, France. Rebecca was no longer an underdog. She was now highly favored to take home the gold. The riverbank was loaded with spectators, the huge jumbotron TV was focused on Rebecca as she sat in the start gate. She left the start gate in a blaze and continued to fly down the huge whitewater course. When she crossed the finished line no judge, no coach, no competitor, or fan would ever doubt her result – she was clearly the best in the world, and with the fastest time, she now sat on the very top of the leader board. Three hours later she was crowned the 2002 World Champion becoming the first U.S. female Whitewater Slalom World Champion since 1979.

I want to drill home my point to this posting – unfair things happen to all of us every day. Life, like sport, is not fair. But my friends we have a choice: we can let anger consume us and blame our unfairness for why we never achieved our dreams, OR we can move on from these unfair acts and chase our dreams again. The choice is ours.

This will not be the last time I post about Rebecca. She’s had many inspirational achievements that I hope to bring to life in this blog, but the moment when her 1999 World Championship silver medal was taken away from her, was in my opinion, one of her greatest victories because she moved on and didn’t let it affect her desire and ability to continue to achieve greatness.

I would like to end this post with a quote given to me by one of my most favorite people in the world, Harriott Lumpkin Parker who just last year was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer at 34 years of age – life at its most unfairness. And yet when I saw her in the thick of her cancer treatment, she was smiling every minute of the day.

“Be happy, my friend for you do have a choice. You can sit and complain or stand and rejoice. You can waste your life with judgment and blame, or learn to forgive and understand we’re the same. For all of us feel fear and everyone knows pain, product of experience, no one’s to blame. So let go of your past your hurts and fears. Cherish each moment and love life while you are here.” unknown

 It is so hard to move on when life is unfair. It is so easy to sit and cry and give up. But do me a favor, after you have had a good cry, stand up and move on and continue to chase all the dreams in your heart. Easier said than done, I know, but 100% worth doing.

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