The RIDGE Blog is where we share stories about Gap semesters in the Rocky Mountains. Our students train and live like mountain athletes at our campus in Whitefish, Montana.
RIDGE coach Cat Jenks Knows what it's like to be a female mountain sports athlete. Cat has hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, skied in Japan, and she's taught more yoga classes than we can keep track of...
In this BLOG post Cat gives some insight to her journey from 'shy girl' to 'strong mountain athlete'.
The RIDGE snowboarding crew recently connected with legendary snowboarder Jason Robinson who is from the Flathead Valley!
J-Rob's snowboarding resume is extensive, to say the least. Last year he was named one of Snowboard Magazine's rider's of the year!
The RIDGE crew had fun chasing J-Rob around Whitefish Mountain, and learning his favorite secret spots around the resort.
As mountain athletes we’re perpetually living in the moment. Our sports require us to be tuned-in and present. If we lose focus, we’ll miss the grab, peel off the rock, eat it on the trail, or biff the landing. For many of us, the act of reliving moments of extreme concentration is what it is all about.
After multiple back-to-back seasons guiding and coaching in the mountains, I feel that I may now have the authority to speak in favor of the rest day- A day I had avoided like the plague in the past. Simply put, a rest day is a ‘day-off’ from mountain sports. Over the years, I’ve noticed that injuries and infamous ‘tweaks’ begin to build up and hinder my performance after multiple back-to-back long days in the mountains.
Every spring I tell myself to take a couple weeks of downtime after an arduous winter of working, training, traveling, and racing (Skimo). Then, reality sets in. I go for my first group ride with the fast dads of Flathead Valley and I get dropped. My jaw drops while my chest heaves as I scramble to stay on the wheel at the back of the pack while the giant invisible dragon behind the peleton gives chase with his jaws open, threatening to swallow me whole and spit me out the back some 3 miles down the road. “How can this happen, I’m in the shape of my life?” is the annually recurring question in March when my Skimo season winds down and the cycling season takes the fore. One more time I’m humbled. One more time I spin home with feeling of dejection, inadequacy, and frustration. I contemplate whether I’m up for the long uphill battle to shed my Skimo shackles and shave my legs in an attempt to uncover the spinning legs that have carried me to multiple highs of accomplishment on the knobbies.
