I've been a professional skier going on 14 years now.  Skiing is my life passion.  It captivates me, it pushes me, it destroys me and it inspires me.  It keeps me strong mentally and physically and never bores.  There's never a bad day when skis are on my feet.

I grew up a farm boy, but not your orthodox farm boy roping cattle and buckin' hay, even though I did help the neighbor boys from time to time...well at least all the help a 9 or 10 year old boy could give.  Our farm was filled with organic produce, mostly basil.  I'm sure I still have basil particles working their way out from under my fingernails.  My family was "poor" according to statistics but we had everything we needed and we were as happy as could be.  We lived in yurts, had a wood fired hot tub, outdoor shower, a greenhouse, an outhouse, a few ponds and a trampoline.  I believe we installed our first phone when I was 4 or so and our lights ran off of two small solar panels that rarely stored more energy to power our lights for a couple of hours and that's if the sun was out all day.  My sister and I ran around our property and my parents along with the Frankoviaks took me cross country skiing.  That's when I developed an undying passion for Skiing and the same love for the outdoors.  The 300 or so acres we lived on and the Colestine Valley where I grew, shaped my outlook on life and the natural world.   

Skiing came to me fairly easy.  After I learned where my edges were I began conquering my home mountain of Mt. Ashland in the heart of the "Southern Oregon Alps".  I resisted formal training but knew I wanted to ski.  I remember heavily resisting the use of poles until I was 8.  My friend Zach Rote convinced me to race in 8th grade.  I would either come in top 5 or blow out of the course, earning me a dnf.  

To be continued...