Sitting at the table in the dining room of our New Hampshire farmhouse, I listened to our then 15-year-old daughter present her case for going to JO's. She had been doing well at the qualifying races and thought it would help her to see kids skiing at a level she had yet to envision for herself. I was resistant, not seeing the need at first, but in the end I agreed, not wanting to hold her back. So she went to Bend, Oregon (1994), and then to Fairbanks, Rumford, Biwabik (Minnesota), and McCall. Her brother competed in McCall, too, and then in Anchorage, Jackson (N.H.),and recently at his last JO's in Marquette/Ishpeming (Michigan). My husband and/or I have accompanied our kids to six of these grand events.

It's a strange position to be in—a parent spectator. On the one hand, you are not involved. You don't have an official job. You wear neither a racing bib nor a coaching bib. But, on the other hand, you are very involved. You search your child's face the morning of the race and just before the start. You watch him warming up and can read the slightest variations in his impulsion. Then you stand by and watch, but your heart follows him out on the course. You strain to see him come back into view, reading the bibs or counting the skiers in front of him. And behind your cheering are years of immeasurable love. When it's over, you share his feelings, whatever they are—from crushing disappointment (which you must never reveal), to elation.

If anyone saw me after Ian's relay in Ishpeming I hope they are charitable in their opinion. I mean, it probably isn't proper for a mother to run across fifteen lanes of track and throw her arms around the neck of her grown son ten seconds after he has left the tag zone. But my joy in Ian's victory—proportional to the difficulty of his season—was irrepressible!

Stepping back and observing the larger JO's picture, I have to say how impressed I've become with our Far West coaching staff. They are an exceptionally well-organized team, each fulfilling his or her own integral role precisely and reliably. They are conscientious, alert, on top of every detail, from testing wax to making sure no one misses her start. One evening in Ishpeming I walked into Far West's waxing barn "after hours". A number of waxing benches stood equally spaced apart, each with a power cord taped neatly to the floor. Along one wall, shelving brackets installed just for the occasion held the team's newly-waxed skis. Each set of brackets was labeled: J2 girls, J2 boys, J1 girls, etc. There wasn't a flake of wax on the floor. What could a mother add to such an excellent support system?

My role, I came to feel, was to give moral and spiritual support—not only to my child or our team, but to the whole event. During one race I followed another parent's lead and used my start list to call out and encourage every competitor by name. This surprised some of them—especially the Canadians! I also argued mentally during the races that every child had a right to succeed—to do his or her very best.

My view of competition has changed in the years since that dining room conversation in New Hampshire. Of course I'm still happy to see my kids place well. But it seems to me that all the athletes, coaches, and parents are in the same boat, pulling oar to oar for the same shore--excellence of individual achievement. Not one skier or one team would do as well alone as with the others pulling with them, pushing the boundaries together. This explains why you often hear coaches cheering for kids who are not on their team. The striving is what it's about, I think, and there are honors enough for everyone in that race.

In that same relay recounted above, one Far West skier gave his all during his anchor leg, passing out at the finish. He had to ski the difficult skate leg, and even though he didn't finish close to the medals, I gave him one in my mind!
Sometimes parents are accused of pushing their kids in sports to gratify their own egos. The model I prefer is to support your kids' racing with your whole heart, not for the sake of vicarious achievement (heaven forbid!) but to help them succeed in reaching their potential and goals. Your kids may tell you that supportive parents are an important ingredient in that success. That's the only gratification a parent needs.