The Gift of Coaching
Perhaps it's the time of year. Maybe it's the sight of high
school teams out training together in recent weeks. There is
also the presence of several photos and information regarding
training camps on skinnyski recently, as well as notices early
in the season looking for able bodies to fill coaching positions.
Together, as well as singularly, these things have prompted
me to reflect upon the important shoes that coaches fill, and
my own good fortune in having been the recipient of guidance
from several talented people throughout high school and college.
In thinking about this article, I reflected back upon the significance
they each had in my journey as a growing skier; I couldn't recall
if I'd ever really expressed the thanks that I had for their
efforts. As is often the case, our appreciation for things of
great importance grows as we mature and gain greater understanding
of the contribution others have made to our lives. So, in this
continuing season of being thankful, I am making a small attempt
to express my gratefulness to those who gave their time and
effort on my behalf and to recognize those who continue to do
so for the benefit of young skiers today.
My early memories of junior high school skiing conjure up
visions of playing soccer for dryland training, running sprints
with the downhill skiers in the tunnel between junior and
senior high schools, and skiing what seemed like endless laps
around the college athletic field on just-barely-there snow.
I can recall how we would ski a lap and then stop to "recover"
and chat until coaches Kevin Sande and/or Don Rosenbury would
remind us that we were there to ski. In those days it seemed
that we were forever finding good excuses to stop and spend
a few moments leisurely applying another coat of kick wax
or adjusting some piece of equipment. After awhile, I began
to realize that there actually was a point to all of this
training stuff as we competed in some of the first races and
I actually improved! The skiing bug caught hold, and soon
visits to the Minnesota High School State meet became a reality.
We even began to consider the value of training in the off-season
summer months. Through it all, there was a coach or coaches
giving enormous amounts of time and effort, and shouldering
great responsibilities on our behalf. Throughout most of junior
and senior high school we looked to coach Kevin Sande as the
source of training tips and also of "magic wax"-the name given
to a secret concoction of kick waxes that he'd produced in
his basement. We didn't know exactly what was in it, just
that it always seemed to work great in those hard-to-wax-for
conditions. He also showed us that it was possible to fearlessly
apply that mysterious klister stuff to produce marvelous kick.
He introduced many of us to the USSA races during high school,
often driving us back and forth to these events and arranging
housing with the combined heroic efforts of many of our parents.
Because of these efforts, I was able to participate in several
Junior Olympic events, and had my first opportunities to travel
to various parts of the country. Importantly, I was encouraged
to find out just what sort of skier I could become.
This sort of effort and encouragement seemed to follow me
into the collegiate arena as well, where I was once again
able to take advantage of the guidance and management skills
of coaches who made it possible to compete on a national level.
This included constant shuttling of the team back and forth
to practices as well as to weekend meets, and even the provision
of personal vehicles for transportation so that we could attend
the West Yellowstone Thanksgiving camp on one occasion. Coaches
Doug Stevens and Terry Krabel also provided many moments of
laughter and my first (any perhaps only) view of tandem skiing
(they even attempted a little skating, with the taller of
the two in front for obvious reasons). Not insignificantly,
our collegiate coaches also continuously went to bat for us,
pleading for the continued funding for our team from the university
athletic department. During the latter years of collegiate
competition, I was particularly fortunate to have skied under
the watchful eye of one of the best women skiers in the Midwest,
Muriel Gilman. Her guidance significantly shaped my ski technique
and ability to critically assess my strengths and weaknesses.
She spent many an extra hour reviewing videotape with us,
introducing terms like "Compress!" (in reference to the complete
use of your upper body during pole strokes) and "bar-stool-butt"
(aptly describing a squatting skating style). She exposed
us to the concept of relaxation as a technique, and lured
us into doing a few more 1km repeats with her prized oatmeal
cookies. I respected her enormously and was lucky enough to
gain her friendship during those years.
Throughout the 10-or-so years of high school and college
skiing, a certain image emerged that largely fits the individuals
that fell under the terminology of "coach." I can see all
of them holding stopwatches with bare hands in the middle
of a ski course, hollering out splits that might help me to
muster a little more energy before reaching the finish. 
One of my favorite ski photos captures this image quite well-me
in my old BSU suit struggling up a hill, while Mur urges me
on--clipboard, stopwatch and pen in bare hands. Her ski boots
in that photo look like marginal protection from the cold
of the snow underfoot. I recall the pats on the back for a
good race as well as the understanding when things hadn't
gone well. There were conversations about waxing, and racing,
about school and current events, about life. In short, these
folks gave of themselves in ways that influenced us not just
as skiers, but as young people on a journey to adulthood.
They gave of their own free time and knowledge in ways that
can not be measured. They were coaches and mentors, and I
would not have had nearly the skiing success that came my
way without their combined influence.
I imagine that many of us who skied on teams in high school
and/or college may have similar memories, with slightly different
faces attached to them, and today's coaches surely still fit
this mold quite well. The responsibility and time dedicated
by these individuals are deserving of much respect and appreciation.
In addition, a great many are very talented athletes in their
own right, and the commitment to a coaching position most
certainly cuts deeply into any personal ski time they may
have. The vast majority is probably also balancing this commitment
with those made to their own families and jobs. So, as I occasionally
ski past the groups of young athletes at Como or other venues
around the Twin Cities, I often give a quick glance at the
coaches tending their flocks and offer a mental salute to
the great job they are doing. And every so often, I'm just
sure that I can hear someone yelling out to me as I climb
a hill, "Compress!"
- As a footnote, I am going on memory for
most of the last names used here, and I sincerely apologize
if any misspellings occurred.
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Margaret is married to Bruce Adelsman, and they have two young boys
who hopefully will be future cross-country skiers. She skied competitively
at Bemidji High School and Bemidji State University during the 1980's,
and then in some citizen races in the early 1990's while in graduate
school. She hopes to share new commentaries on a periodic basis
related to various aspects of life as a cross-country skier.