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Musings

Wayfinding.

Megan Harrod

W-A-Y-F-I-N-D-I-N-G.

I'm not quite sure where I came upon this term recently—was either a movie, podcast, or piece of literature I consumed in the last week while living the island life in Maui. Anyway, I like it. 

WAYFINDING: (n) Wayfinding can be defined as spatial problem solving. It is knowing where you are in a building or an environment, knowing where your desired location is, and knowing how to get there from your present location.

I like it because we're all wayfinders—some of us more proficient at the skill than others—but nevertheless, all wayfinders in our own unique way. It seems to be a simple concept, though I'm not entirely sure it's as simple as it sounds. You see, wayfinding is about knowing where you are presently by knowing where you've been. Beyond that, I believe it's about creating meaningful intentional movement forward in order to propel you where you'd like to go. For those of you who have visited the "basecamp" before, you know that I'm keen on Buddhist teachings and believe that living in the present is where we can find and experience the most freedom. That said, I'm a strong believer in intention-setting and moving forward through life in a meaningful, thoughtful manner. To me, that's the epitome of wayfinding. 

Lately, I've pontificated a lot about my purpose and meaning. It seems that's what the springtime thaw is all about, and certainly the time to do it...slow down, find comfort in stillness and silence, and—dare I say—even a little bit of laziness. Nearly four years later, I'm finally learning the meaning of my first tattoo: "move slowly." Better late than never, right? In the process of thinking about purpose and meaning, I've recently pondered the notion of identity. Have you ever thought about who you are? Like, really, who YOU—apart from your work or your significant other—are? In the past, I've so closely connected my identity to my work or humans in my life, and it has never provided for the most fruitful outcome. Sure, fully diving into pursuits of work and people have enabled me to create deep, meaningful results and relationships, but at the same time the results have left me entangled and intertwined with things that don't truly serve my soul. Even so, I've been able to find success—the way I define success, anyway.

Let's stray for a bit and talk about the definition of success, shall we?! For me, success is not measured by a dollar amount in my bank account (clearly, or I wouldn't be working for the U.S. Ski Team...ha ha, but FOR REAL), titles or a corner office, family or children, a house, nice car or the amount of stuff I own. Success, to me, is being true to myself, living my life with an open mind and compassionate servant's heart, transparency, and vulnerability, authentic connections, lifting others' up even—and maybe especially—when they don't treat me the same way, wayfinding with intention and creating something from nothing with a goal to seek constant personal growth in this ever-changing world. Also, empathy. Empathy is important to me. If I can be empathetic, I've tasted success. 

So, back to the thought I started...sure, diving in deep and allowing my heart to love big has provided for a lot of success, but, I've also experienced a deep and profound sadness along the journey—largely due to the devil that is expectation and the stories we tell ourselves. 

In desperate love, we always invent the characters of our partners, demanding they be what we need of them, and then feeling devastated when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place.
— Elizabeth Gilbert

Over the last several years, but most notably in the last year, I've forged a very intimate relationship with another Buddhist concept: impermanence. In doing so, I've learned to let go...of people, experiences, and things. I've accepted this concept into my life so deeply that I am finally able to find gratitude in times of transition. I've lived a large chunk of my life holding on to things, at times getting lost in unnecessary drama, in an effort to live a good story. The thing is, that's not an effortless way to live. It's hard work, and it's been heavy lifting for my big heart. I used to count down the days to an end of vacation and lament about leaving a person or place that meant so much to me. Don't get me wrong, it's still challenging to say "goodbye" to people and places in my life when the time comes, but I'm much more capable of seeing the "good" in "goodbye".  Perhaps I've learned this lesson as a result of the seasonal nature of my work, and maybe it's easier for me to leave places because I find appreciation for my Utah home that I never had for the Midwest...and I know I'll be on the road again soon. Either way, I'm finding peace in being present. And that feels damn good. 

Sometimes I joke that I'm boring now...less excitable, living life more simply and balanced. Of course, I don't believe that to be true—at the core I'm the same big loving, crazy adventurer—but I just don't really need to be seen or heard as loudly as I once did. I don't need the affirmation of others like I may have during my transition. Living life in Park City can often feel like high school, complete with cliques. Since I'm on the road all winter, I actually have only lived in Salt Lake and Park City about 9 months in the last three years..hard to build and grow relationships when you have no roots.

You are not your roots. You are a flower grown from them.

I used to care when I wasn't invited to social gatherings. Friends with everyone and ever-popular growing up, I had never really experienced what it felt like to be left out. (Except for when I was new to ski racing and wore all of my brother's hand-me-downs...but my charming personality and quick wit would quickly win all the rich ski kids over.) And, as a single woman—who is a bit odd—new to Park City (one of these things is not like the others), I'd often be forgotten. A pariah in a sea of happy married wealthy couples with babies on the way. Honestly, it hurt my feelings to be forgotten. Sometimes it still does, but mostly I'm able to separate my emotion from the things I can not control. To be comfortable with who you are apart from anyone else is not easy when you're thrust into a new environment. These days, I'm more comfortable in my skin, perhaps? One of my mentors, Beatrix Ost, has this motto: "In your body is a good place to be". It's true. In fact, it's the best place to because, where we are at this very moment, is freeing. When I reflect on life three years ago, it seems like worlds away. My married life seems like an alternate universe. Life changes so fast, and if we don't find balance in ourselves then it's easy to get wrapped up in the fast-paced chaos and spiral into an oblivion. I'm not sure most people see the difference in who I am today, but I feel it from the depth of my core.

My mind is quieter; the chatter has subsided, mostly. I'm keen to meet others' with an appropriate energy level that enables me to connect in a more meaningful way. It's true that most people couldn't connect or relate to my former self...and—dare I utter these words, but—it was, at times, "too much." I get it now. It's not that I didn't get it then...it's just that I didn't really care what they thought. I wanted to live life big, wild and untamed. Fair enough. When you go through a transition as big as divorce and moving across the country, effectively to pursue your own dreams and passions apart from anyone or anything else, it's one big, wild, untamed—and scary—adventure. Most people don't understand that level of transition because they never experience even one of those changes in an entire lifetime. It's foreign and it's different, and different is scary. People don't exactly find change to be a comfy notion. And, that's ok. It doesn't make me or them any better or worse...it just, well, makes us different. To realize and find beauty in our differences is a gift that I'm blessed to know and practice.

One of the scariest things in our lives is actually doing what we know we want to do.
— Cheryl Strayed

When we transform our thoughts about a sad or a bad situation from negative to positive, it's much easier to find the "good" in the "goodbyes" and lessons we need to learn as we seek personal growth. Sometimes our darkest teachers are the best, most effective teachers. I'm thankful for my first true love—a strawberry blonde Irishman with the gift of gab who was deceptively charming and drove me absolutely nuts but taught me my first poignant lesson in impermanence and heartbreak. I am grateful for my ex-husband. Actually, I'm most thankful for him. He taught me very profound lessons about life, love, and codependency. He taught me that even though two people seem perfect on paper, reality often tells a different story. He turned my life upside down and made me reconsider everything I thought to be true about love and marriage. I'm thankful for my involuntary exit from Ethnotek, the company I co-owned which I poured my whole being into—though brutal at the time, I was meant to learn from it. The list goes on and on. The one thread that weaves all of these experiences together is that I absolutely got lost in them. I lost myself and my identity in them. Since then, many challenging experiences in my life have been so because of a habit I acquired during my young adult life to dive fully into things and people. I only knew one pace: blazing fast. Add to that the fact that I was accustomed to getting what I wanted in life—partly because I was privileged by the standards of most, but mostly because I put the hard work into it and it paid off—and you can imagine it was difficult for me when things didn't work out like I had mapped them out in my head. 

Wayfinding. 

The path each of us takes isn't the same...and for me, it's most often not the easy route. It is clearer than ever before, mostly because I'm focused more on where I am right now and less concerned with the unknown. I've gotten lost along the way, both literally and figuratively, but I've always managed to find my way back, learning poignant lessons in the on the journey. Recent struggles in my personal and professional lives—which, in my industry, are often quite entangled—have taught me incredible lessons that I am more grateful for than words could begin to convey. I've learned that it's okay to say "no"...in fact it's better to say "no" if it means you can't give someone or something enough of yourself to the point they are not able to fully experience your magic. I've learned that I'm not anyone else's possession...and that's the way it should be. I'm not yours. I'm mine. I've always known this, which is why relationships have been a challenge for me in the past...but now I truly understand it and feel it. Codependency is not for me. I'm an individual, and I'm best when I'm known as "Megan" rather than "[insert dude's name]'s girlfriend" (side note: I do like the term "partner" and think it is much more grown up). I am me, first. It's like the mantra I uttered on the mat in Minneapolis at Modo Yoga that one day when I realized I needed to live life solo for a while..."ME BEFORE US." I've found freedom right here where I am at this moment.

"Me before us" is not selfish. Or maybe it is, but not necessarily in a negative way. Learning how to love me before others was, without question, vital in finding peace where I am in this present moment. To be true to yourself, gentle with yourself, patient with yourself and understanding with yourself is to find true freedom. I needed to find it before I could truly love another human. And, that's what the last few years have taught me. I'm accepting of my flaws. I'm imperfect, and I make mistakes. And that's OK. Because I'm human. And the beautiful thing is, you are human too. And we're all traveling through this fucked up, amazing, weird, wonderful adventure together. We're all finding our way, navigating through this beautiful mess. I'm more aware than ever. I know that I'm still affected by energy more than most humans. Full moons make me crazy. My period makes me chaotic, and for some odd reason I still can't understand, it always seems to surprise me with each month it comes to pay a visit (and no—it's not because I think I may be pregnant...thank God). Yes, I'm admitting it. I hated when my ex would call me out, but it's true...the hormones make me a little cuckoo. Mostly in my brain, but sometimes externally as well. All I have to say about that is that I'd like to see dudes on their period. Ha, that'd be pure gold. I'm curious, not to be confused with nosy. I care. A lot. I love. Deeply. However, before I once loved too freely. Now it's reserved for the most special things and ones. As it should be. I am genuine, even though many don't believe so at first. I'm just a human like you, after all. And, humanity is beautiful. 

Relationships never provide you with everything. They provide you with some things. You take all you want from a person―sexual chemistry, let’s say, or good conversation, or financial support, or intellectual compatibility, or niceness, or loyalty - and you get to pick three of them.
— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

We are not meant to be each other's everything. As I watch young couples canoodle on the plane, I cringe a little bit. I try to appreciate it for them even though it's not for me, but I still cringe. I want to be loved, but that does not mean I  want to be worshiped. I struggle with the idea of spending all of my time with one human and planning my life around their schedule. Obviously, it hasn't worked for me in the past. At the same time, living "wild and free" doesn't necessarily mean living a life alone as a solo traveling wanderer. I now believe true freedom can be achieved in partnership with someone who fully understands the importance of individuality and independence. That's what true love is. Maybe it's not what I once thought it was...maybe it's not earth-shatteringly big at every moment like I thought it was supposed to be. Like the movies told us it was supposed to be (except for The Lobster, of course - which you should all watch). I know this to be true: it's not jealous or possessive or codependent. It's not resentful. There is a hefty amount of respect, space to breathe and be and time to hit the "pause" button because it's not perfect and we're not actually wired to be with one human 24/7 (which is OK, by the way, contrary to popular belief). There's understanding. Kindness and softness. At this moment, I'm happy and thankful. Even, and especially, for the dark teachers...for sometimes they guide us to the brightest lights.

And now, I must put my computer down and wayfind myself outside to the big, ol' sunshine, sand and salty water...

Before I jet to paradise, here are three exercises for you, if you wish to partake in personal growth and reflection: 1) Ponder the notion of "identity". Who are you? What makes you tick and gets you excited? What do you believe? 2) Think about your definition of success, and—if you're up for it—share your thoughts in the comments section below, and 2) Write about an object that's meaningful to you...just sit down and write, and see where it takes you. What have you experienced with this object? What live has this object lived? Who gave this object to you, or where did you get it? Stuff like that. I can't take credit for this exercise, as I snagged it from Tim Ferriss' recent podcast "How to be Creative Like a Motherfucker" featuring Cheryl Strayed, writer of "Wild". I highly recommend giving that one a listen, by the way. Really good stuff. 

For the record, I'll put #3 into practice for one of my upcoming blog posts. 

Until then, journey on, my fellow wayfinders...

Post Script: Sometimes I share tunes I like...most recently I've been digging Marian Hill, Tei Shi, and Jessie Reyez. Also, I like the following related words to "wayfinding": "wayfarer" and "wanderlust". Yes, there's a theme. 

Coming out of hibernation on a full moon...

Megan Harrod

Transition is weird. Makes you feel a little funny, inside and out. Unsure of what direction is right side up, what is reality and what is a dream state. Especially after you've been living in a dream state for months. I've felt this way every April since I started this job. It's funny...the other day I was talking to an athlete who felt the same way. She's been doing this for 15 years. It doesn't go away, but each spring we seem caught off guard by its return. What's most odd is that we think we're in this alone...that we're the only ones feeling lonely; lost. Or just a little awry and peculiar. Peculiarity is kind of my normal.

It's a little bit like a bear coming out of hibernation...only maybe less fat and happy. Wait, I take that back - probably just as fat and just as sad as a bear is happy. And, bears stop moving in the winter, while we frantically move from one place to the next, without breathing. Ok, so maybe it's not like a bear coming out of hibernation at all, really. In the sense that we are reintroducing ourselves to society without a strict schedule and plan of action, though, it is similar. I have loads of work to do, and seemingly loads of time to do it. And all I want to do is just sit and do nothing, but at the same time, I want to do everything. A little bored (I loathe boredom). Impatient. Unimportant. Unstimulated. A little sad. Anxious. Unable to sleep through the night. 

The moon is nearly full. I've always been eerily in tune with the moon cycle, feeling its energy and listening to what it has to say. My mother, who is a midwife, often told me tales of oddities and chaos in the hospital around the full moon. There's something to it. I've read about this full moon. It's being called the "Pink Moon" or the "Wind Moon" (in Pagan traditions). This full moon, today, is all about change in nature and the ways in which we can enact similar changes in our own lives. Winter has come and gone, but the wind remains, stirring up seeds and pollen. Flowers are starting to bloom adding color to the landscape. Regrowth. Transition to focusing on new beginnings and change coming our way as well. Coming out of hibernation and finding ourselves, once again. 

A sort of reminder of our own strength and a call to action that we've survived the winter and it's now time to start thinking about what we need to do in order to thrive this summer. Coincidentally - or maybe not so much - this moon aligns with the Buddhist New Year. In Theravadan countries like Thailand, Laos, Sri Lanka, etc, Buddhists will celebrate their New Year for three days after the first full moon in April. A sort of ritual for letting go of pain and suffering in a quest to find an "enlightenment" state of being. I've always been intrigued by Buddhism and its four noble truths: dukkha (suffering exists and is due to the fact that everything is impermanent), Samudaya (suffering caused by expectations and cravings), Nirodha (suffering will cease when we let go of expectations and attachment to desire ceases), and Nirvana (the freedom and liberation we experience when we let go and our suffering subsides. Full moon evenings are energetic peaks and rituals can be performed to focus our energy on what we'd like to cleanse or accept into our lives. Like, burning sage in an effort to cleanse the negative and invite the positive vibrations in. (Side note: no, I am not high right now. I've just been reading Elephant Journal). 

With each passing day, I'm settling into the slower pace of life and appreciating it. On April 1st I started a 21-day challenge with a friend, which includes meditation, journaling, movement, gratitude, etc. It's not too different than what I had been doing last spring with Tim Ferriss' 5-minute journal and my daily Headspace meditation, but it's nice to get back into the flow and it's amazing what some mindful moments can gift you. 

Looking forward to springtime, new beginnings, and regrowth. But for now I'm just looking forward to the energy of tonight's full moon as I tell myself the following words:

Trust the wait. Embrace the uncertainty. Enjoy the beauty of becoming.

And here are some tips for how to be a moon child...

  • Never stop exploring.
  • Follow the moon.
  • Stay wild.
  • Walk barefoot; listen to the wind.
  • Always be yourself.
  • Say YES to new adventures. 
  • Be brave. Be kind. Be curious. 

Moondust 

The End of the Road

Megan Harrod

Last night I looked up at the stars bright and high in the atmosphere, gazing and giggling down at us, in the form sparkles and shooting stars...sending subtle reminders that we humans are just a small fixture in this behemoth Universe. Still, sometimes we forget. Fixated on ourselves in our tiny little bubbles, we think we're kings and queens when we're merely humans. Humans with all sorts of flaws and faults and weaknesses. The end of the road always has a way of reminding me of this. 

For nearly eight straight months we live our lives on the road. It's anything but balanced and hardly what most would consider "normal." We live out of backpacks and duffle bags and ski bags. Too many to carry on our own. Especially around the world. Our clothes go unwashed for weeks, or—if we have time—hand washed in bathroom sinks across the globe. How's that for glitz and glam?! Happiness is a hotel that does laundry for free, or a breakfast that contains fresh fruit, salted butter and fresh baguettes...really anything but semmel rolls and salami.

The days blend together and the ceilings we wake up to blend together too. At some point, small European villages all start to look the same. We can't remember what day it is or where we are in the morning when we awake. Ceiling fright to the max. We live in a world where our roommate know us best, and they know that we wake to "Born in the U.S.A" in the morning, to remind us where we came from. Getting our own room is a bonus that we take advantage of, because it's such a rarity. Simple pleasures. Complex world.

On the outside, our world looks sparkly and shimmery and like a dream. Mostly, it is. We feel lucky. We are lucky. On the inside, though, exist layers of deep complexity...loneliness, sadness and emptiness. The feeling that we can never do quite enough—never live up to their standards, or our own, for that matter. It's a little bit like a fantasy land akin to Moulin Rouge or The Great Gatsby. You know, the big, magical pink elephant and fantastical star-lined dreamland with a dark, black hole-like interior. 

We travel in planes, trains and automobiles, covering thousands and thousands of miles carrying hundreds of pounds of luggage. We live on a defined schedule with a specific purpose: athletes first. We do what we need to do in order for the athletes to shine—both on and off the mountain. We love it; we live for it. It's like a drug. And then, when we hit the end of the road...we encounter a tailspin and don't know exactly what to do with ourselves. SO much more time. Time for ourselves. We start to question...everything, really. And, we miss the grind. 

It feels like withdrawal. 

On the road together, we experience highs and lows...but we mostly only remember the highs. We see and experience the most beautiful spaces and places and faces in the world. We do it as one family. It's easy to forget what life is like on the outside...which is perfectly acceptable, because the inside is our winter reality. A reality that we dive into with our whole selves—because that's really the only way to do it if we want to do it justice. Hardly balanced, but entirely satisfying. While the high lasts, anyway.

We sacrifice things like family and personal relationships for the sport because we love what we do. To the core of our being. And then, all of a sudden, we're thrust back into another kind of reality. It's like a switch is flipped and we're on another planet. Everyone parts ways and the cycle continues. A quieter planet with no defined plan and no schedule. Or, a different schedule—one that includes a significant other and perhaps even a family. Ground zero. We attempt to reacquaint ourselves with loved ones. Rekindle those marriage flames. Try dating again. It feels odd. Sleeping in a bed with another human takes getting used to. Nothing feels right. Everything forced. Odd transition. 

And yet, we yearn for more. More of that life on the road. Because it doesn't feel like enough. Ever. 

We curl up in the fetal position and cry. Or we stare blankly at the fluffy clouds from the window seat on the plane. We drink. Sometimes, too much. We flee to remote places to disconnect, yet when we arrive we yearn for the connection we had. We cry some more. We tell ourselves we’ll be better with time. We’ll figure out a new direction. A clearer path.

We feel the feelings—sometimes so hard it’s overwhelming. We think. Too much. We escape to sunshine and ocean to fill our soul and find answers. Sometimes we find them, and sometimes we find ourselves more lost than we were when we arrived.

We tell ourselves we'll only live this transient, seasonal life for a brief period of time. It's a challenging schedule without balance. It's difficult to be a woman in the industry. But time flies too fast and when the sunshine is gone and the snow flies we seem to forget everything we've just gone through and we think to ourselves once again, "maybe I'll stay just one more year." And it continues on, and on, and on. Because, as hard and lonely as it sometimes is, we are addicted to it. Like a drug. 

We say we need to get away from the people we travel with all winter long. We need some space. But when we say "goodbye" and walk away, we yearn to spend time with the same people again. It's weird. But, that familiarity is safe. It's because we see the sights and experience the places, the joys and the sadness together. Human connection. We fall in love with people we work with and struggle to determine if it's real or merely a product of our environment. Love lingers on and on and on and so do the questions. 

We run to the circus, away from lives at home. Run from fears. Run from one reality to another. Some of us don't even have lives at home. Or homes for that matter. Lost. Wandering. The hunt for happiness is constant. And we always leave the hunt feeling a little bit empty and unsatisfied. We say we're tired and ready to move on. Exhausted. And then we go back. Because we can't live without it. We find energy for it and it gives us a strange kind of energy in return. 

Addicted to movement. Addicted to the highs and lows. Addicted to the tribe. Addicted to the purpose. Addicted to the places and faces and spaces. Like a drug. Addicted to feeling the end of the road and finding, once again, the beginning again. An addiction. A beautiful, lovely, fucked up addiction.

PS Most days, as I'm driving thousands of kilometers across country borders in Euroland, I find the lyrics of First Aid Kit's "My Silver Lining" floating through my head. If there was a soundtrack for my life, this would be the headliner...

I don’t want to wait anymore I’m tired of looking for answers
Take me some place where there’s music and there’s laughter
I don’t know if I’m scared of dying but I’m scared of living too fast, too slow
Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I’ve got to go
There’s no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on
And you’ve just gotta keep on keeping on
Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road
Can’t worry ‘bout what’s behind you or what’s coming for you further up the road
I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong
I try to keep on keeping on
Yeah I just keep on keeping on

I hear a voice calling
Calling out for me
These shackles I’ve made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won’t take the easy road

I’ve woken up in a hotel room, my worries as big as the moon
Having no idea who or what or where I am
Something good comes with the bad
A song’s never just sad
There’s hope, there’s a silver lining
Show me my silver lining
Show me my silver lining

I hear a voice calling
Calling out for me
These shackles I’ve made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won’t take the easy road

I won’t take the easy road
The easy road, the easy road

I won’t take the easy road
The easy road, the easy road

Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on

The Traveler: A Tale of A Double Standard

Megan Harrod

This is my fourth time trying to write this. FML.

BRIEF DISCLAIMER: I feel like I say this every time I write, but have patience with me with this one...it takes a while for me to get where I intended to go when I wrote this post title. Grab a glass of wine or something. You'll be glad you did, and it might make my writing sound even better than it is. 

I guess fourth time is a charm, right?! Normally I'd get really frustrated, but not today. Today I just took three deep breaths and smirked a bit. It's one of those kind of days. I'm sitting alone in a random sub-par Salzburg cafe in the smokey non-smoking section. Fabulous. Life on the road isn't always as glamorous as you all think. But, for some, rose-colored glasses are better - so I'll try to let you believe it's all unicorns and rainbows. At least for a little bit. Because, still, I love it. And, most of the time, I make it all about unicorns and rainbows...and most people just don't know how to do that. For me, it's natural. I don't know any other way.* 

I've been wanting to write this piece for quite some time now, but as with many things it wasn't meant to be translated from my brain to whatever typeface this is until now. Typically, at the end of the year I take time to reflect on lessons learned, but this year it will look a little different. It became more and more apparent, as time went by and life happened (aka Trump was elected President of the United States...which, by the way, still has me in disbelief), that these words were meant to be shared. So, share I will. And, let me tell youit feels good to finally have a moment of time to write for myself. 

SIDE NOTE: one of my goals in the new year is to set aside at least 30 minutes each day for myself to move, meditate, or write. 

It can be a bit hard to be on the road for the holidays, as a single human, far from your family. The holidays were something special this year. I spent Christmas Eve in Patsch with my American Downhiller family, and Christmas day was spent with Martina's family next door in Fulpmes. It was lovely and felt right. Santa even visited me in my room and stuffed my stocking with treats!! It was a small break before hitting the road for Semmering, Austria for more races, but it was refreshing. Now I'm in Salzburg for the new year, no idea where I'll end up tonight...maybe with my friend Amelie and maybe not. Let's just hope I survive the evening. Going with the flow, as always.

Jan. 1st: Okay, so 2016 continued to take the role of supreme teacher last night. Remember back in September when I used the line, "Ich bin immer allein und immer reisen?!" Well, that pretty much summed up my last few days. And, I just have to laugh. Post-Semmering, I had a fabulous time with friends in my Cesky Krumlov home before heading to Salzburg for New Year's celebrations. I had decided to forego trips to France and Switzerland in order to ring in the new year in Austria, but 2016 had other plans for me. As I was attempting to determine where and with whom I'd ring in the new year, I was sitting in my car both sobbing and laughing. Because, it was poetic after all. Ich bin immer allein. Remember?!

I took some deep breaths, remembering that these moments are moments to test all of the work I've done in the last 12 months. But, alas...sometimes,  you just need to fucking cry. So I cried. Then I drove to Obdach to spend New Year's Eve with my U.S. Ski Team family. You know what I learned again?! Expectations are the danger zone. Don't go there. Just don't do it. Lesson learned. Again. Along the entire 2 hour 45 minute drive, I was gifted the most stunning fireworks and shooting star show I could have imagined. And, the night was actually wonderful. 

Back in Salzburg and spending time with my mental coach and his family Bernie was a gift in and of itself. A nap this afternoon recharged my spirit, and here I am, sharing these words with you. That's a gift. So let's get to this whole "double standard" thing, shall we?! 

When I was living overseas this fall I was thinking a lot about how fucked up it is to be a solo female traveler, strong woman...and to combine that with your day job is even more misunderstood to conventional society. It was a mixture of things like the movie The Lobster, thoughts of my trip to India, and living solo in a small village in Austria that made the realization apparent for me. When you're a strong woman, men find it threatening. When you're a strong woman who travels freely and often independently, you're crazy. But when you're a strong woman who travels freely and often independently, doesn't call a single location "home," speaks your truth and holds others accountable to theirs, and you live out of a couple of backpacks and a duffle bag on the road in a male-dominated industry where the grey hairs make a majority of the decisions for a dying sport...well then, my friends, you're just a downright mystery who questions any man's perception of what "masculinity" means and you might as well be destined to a life alone. Immer allein. Because, mostly, it's not their fault that they can't understand you. You're odd. You're untouchable. A magical unicorn frolicking in a faraway, fairytale land...you're not even on the same planet. Writing that, I realize how challenging it would be to try to keep up with me, let alone understand me. I'm different. Defiant. And, I'm okay with that. Because it's who I am. 

I had a conversation recently with a male athlete on the team about the topic of the challenges of being a woman on the road vs. being a man, and he disagreed and didn't really get it. The fact is, it IS more challenging because we are misunderstood. There's a double standard not solely in the workplace, but even for female travelers on the road. The combo, though is nearly impossible. You can say whatever you want, but I know from experience how hard it is for the man to be the one at home while his girlfriend or wife is away. You have to be an incredibly strong, understanding, caring man to be in that situation. As men and women settle into conventional roles, men, on the other hand, are quite often the gender on the road with the female at home. It's more accepted. Less emasculating, I guess. What does that mean?! I guess I'm destined for singledom for a while...or at least until I find a special human. 

Maybe this all sounds like a mental shit storm to you, but all of these thoughts were swirling in my head as Donald Trumpa man who talks about and treats women like they truly are the weaker sexwas elected president. What a sick joke that I still can't believe is our reality. So I'll just leave that there and share two storiesone positive and one kind of shittyabout what it's like to be a woman in this male dominated world...just in case there are humans out there who still don't get it and need to be convinced. I'm sharing these stories because they each provided me with memorable learning opportunities in 2016.  

The new ink.

The new ink.

KIA KAHA
First, a tale of strength. During my trip to New Zealand, I traveled to a small village with my friend Giulia named Moeraki to visit the boulders and have lunch at "Fleur's Place"...a warmly-lit, lovely little restaurant owned by a crazy-white-haired woman named Fleur, where messages in black Sharpie marker decorated the walls, the seafood soup was salty and delicious and the pinot noir was perfect for my palate. Fleur was there that day, and she inspired me. We sat down and she shared tales of starting businesses solo, as a divorced, single mother with passion and a vision. In the most simple way possible, she told me about overcoming the challenges you face as a female entrepreneur in a man's world. As she shared these stories with a tear in her eye, she simply said, "It's hard to do what you want to do in life...but you just have to be strong and keep moving forward." I bought a book of hers, and in it she wrote "KIA KAHA"a Moari phrase that means "stay strong" and is scattered throughout the lives of Kiwis, found in literature, music and has been written on shop front windows as a symbol of strength in tough times, like post-earthquake in 2011. She inspired me that day, teaching me lessons she doesn't even realize. Because, it is hard to do what you want to do in life, and be what you want to be and who you want to be...and society doesn't support that if it's different. When I went to Prague this fall, I got the words "Kia Kaha" in her handwriting tattooed on my left arm. I haven't shared it publicly until now, and a lot of people have asked me what it says. I joke, telling them it's Kim Kardashian's signature. At the same time, I got my favorite punctuation mark, an ellipsis, tattooed on my left ring finger. Because, after all, there's more to the story...

Anyway, Fleur reminded me to not compromise who I am for anyone or anything...and as I travel down this crazy road with a one-way ticket on La Tour de Insanity, that's an invaluable lesson. Now it's a lesson that will travel with me forever, in ink. Cheers to Fleur and the strong women in my life who encourage me to continue to move forward down this path as ME and no one else.

THE GREY HAIRS
In October we kicked off the start to the 50th year of the Audi FIS Ski World Cup season. You might call me a feminist (which I am, by the way), but in 50 years, I have to say not too much has changed with FIS in terms of the presence of females in this male-dominated industry. Okay, yesSarah Lewis is a woman, and there are women here and there, but the ski industry is still run by the "grey hairs," as I lovingly refer to them...and, unfortunately, they're still the ones at the helm making decisions for a dying sport. And this rant leads me to a story as I attempt to illustrate what it sometimes feels like to be a female in this world: invisible. Which, for those of you who aren't English buffs, is quite the opposite of invincible. In a room full of men involved with communications and media, I raised my hand to give my two cents on a topic for which I was well-versed, being one of few Millennial humans in the room and likely the only one that had worked in the digital agency realm. I was overlooked. Ignored, in fact. For the next five minutes I kept my hand raised patiently as I listened to old men, satisfied with the sound of their voices, droning on about bullshit saying everything and nothing at all. Like politicians. Finally, I put my hand down.

You know what it feels like to be completely ignored? Really shitty, actually. Because the fact remains that if you're one of few women in a room, you have to be ultra-mindful of what you say. If you interrupt and don't raise you're hand, you're abrasive, bitchy and loud. But, if you wait, you'll never get called upon. At times, it's even jarring to hear the sound of your voice. While men can open their mouths and share stupidity with confidence and still be heard, women are not even considered. And this isn't the first time it's happened, unfortunately. The only woman at a spring meeting full of coaches, I spoke up about a pre-Olympic event and was told..."it's a good thing we can plan our training camps around your partying in LA, Megan," through a laugh. Yes, sure, because I party for a living and can't wait to go to LA and spend four straight days in a conference room for athlete interviews. Once, a serviceman (wax technician) told me, "you're not smart." And though I'd like to roll my eyes and say "You're an idiot," instead I just laugh and keep my mouth shut. Because if I'm really being honest with myselfI don't care what they think and I'll never be able to teach them anything. So I smile. I smile a lot. Laugh, wink, hug. All of these things are kind of coping mechanisms for women in this world. This world where a disgusting man can say "grab them by the pussy" when referring to women, and yet still be elected as President of the United States. And you tell me we've made great strides...that there's no double standard in this industry, or on the road as a traveler, or in business. Whether you realize it or not, we've got a long way to go, my friends.

REMEMBER: KIA KAHA.

On Being a Woman...
Why is it, when I am in Rome,
I’d give an eye to be at home,
But when on native earth I be,
My soul is sick for Italy?

And why with you, my love, my lord,
Am I spectacularly bored,
Yet do you up and leave me- then
I scream to have you back again?
— Dorothy Parker

 

Thank you, 2016, for being the best teacher I've had yet...for teaching me the importance of silence, knowing your audience and meeting them with the appropriate energy level, heartbreak, that humans move at different paces and patience is a good thing, meditation, love, loss, moving slowly, not everything has to be on social media for it to be real, not being invited to things is ok, Maui is always a good idea after the season and it's okay to not want to talk to anyone, time spent with nature, impermanence, living a diverse and curious life with many interests is the only way for me to live, if you're happy - there will always be people that want to bring you down and it's often because they're missing something in their life, when given the opportunity to stand in front of a room of humans and share someone's art that you believe in, even if you're terrified - always say "yes", living alone in a small Austrian village and sucking at a new language, and more. Happy 2017...I look forward to learning from you, too. 

A big thanks to each and every one of you for following me as I travel on this journey. When I get a moment to write, it's a gift...and it's even more of a gift when you read my writing. Thank you for your encouragement and love, always. 

Love, 
Me

*The Real Truth
I was thinking the other day about how bizarrely misunderstood I am and how bizarrely misunderstood my role often is. I wasn't going to bring this up today, but I feel compelled to, so I will. I was on a hike with a colleague who told me that one of our other colleagues said he'd love my job because "all I do is party and go to the best locations." Fair enough, but sometimes perception is not reality. It's actually partially true. I'm lucky to travel to the most amazingly beautiful destinations, as are we all in this industry. However, I'm more boring than most people think, and I often am awake until the wee hours of the morning working. Most people don't see that, though...and they don't have to. Heck, I figure if I do my job good enough for them to think that, then that's a compliment. SO, thank you all. Life is a big party, after all. Right?!