Tag: Athlete profile

  • After the World Cup, Rosie Brennan Still Has More Skiing Ahead

    After the World Cup, Rosie Brennan Still Has More Skiing Ahead

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    Rosie Brennan (USA) celebrates in Ruka (FIN) in 2023 after finishing 2nd in Saturday’s 10 k classic race. The result was Brennan’s first classic World Cup podium of her career. (Photo: Nordic Focus)

    Rosie Brennan has stepped away from the World Cup, though she’s still figuring out exactly how to define the next chapter in her life.

    Retirement is the easy word, and in some ways, the accurate one. She is done with the World Cup. She is done with the version of cross-country skiing that demands five months in Europe, constant travel, start lists, team schedules, narrow margins and the unrelenting pressure of measuring a career in seconds. 

    After more than a decade with the U.S. Ski Team, three Olympic appearances, hundreds of World Cup starts, two World Cup wins and a place among the best all-around skiers the United States has produced, Brennan has stepped away from the highest level of the sport.

    But if retirement is supposed to mean the end of something, Brennan is not quite sure the word fits.

    “Retirement has been a tough word for me,” Brennan said. “It feels very black and white.”

    “One of my friends and older teammates called it rewiring.”

    To Brennan, that seems closer. She’s not walking away from skiing so much as trying to build a new relationship with it. The shape of her days may change, and her focus will no longer be “110 percent” on racing, but skiing itself remains too central, too familiar and too joyful to simply leave behind. 

    “I love skiing and ski racing,” Brennan said. “I want to continue to be able to use my body in ways that challenge and push me in the world of skiing and competition again at some point, maybe sooner than later.”

    “Skiing is just not that for me,” Brennan said of the idea of retiring and never doing the thing again. “It’s something that I hope to do till the day I die, honestly.”

    The first uploaded image of Rosie Brennan in the FasterSkier archives after she won both EISA women’s races in Feb. 2009 (Photo: Ruff Patterson)

    A Career Built on Perseverance

    When Brennan looks back now, the first thing she points to is not a specific race, podium or result sheet, but rather the belief in herself that made all of those things possible.

    “I’m really proud of, I guess, the perseverance of my career,” Brennan said. “It takes perseverance to have longevity in a career, to weather the inevitable obstacles that appear throughout a long career, and to find belief when things aren’t going your way.”

    That perseverance became the throughline of a career that took time to reveal itself. Brennan was not a teenage prodigy who moved smoothly from junior success to World Cup podiums. She came to skiing later than many of her peers, waited longer for the biggest results and had to weather the doubts that creep in when progress slows, injuries interrupt momentum and other paths begin to look more practical. Then when the results did arrive, those earlier years felt even more meaningful. 

    In a career defined by patience and progress, one of the things Brennan says she is most proud of is not just that she reached the top level, but that she continued to expand what she could do once she got there. She never settled into one lane as only a distance skier or only a classic specialist. Instead, she kept working to become more complete, finding reward in the challenge of improving across formats, distances and techniques.

    “I’m also proud of the range that I maintained throughout my career,” Brennan said. “Continuing to be an all-arounder throughout my career and finding some success in all the disciplines and both techniques throughout — that was something that was just, I don’t know, I guess a personal challenge that I found a lot of reward in.”

    That sense of progress extended beyond Brennan’s own results. Her career also unfolded during the strongest era in the history of American women’s cross-country skiing, and as the U.S. team continued to raise its standard internationally, Brennan came to see herself as part of something larger than her own race days.

    “I’m proud to have been part of a really amazing wave of American women skiing,” Brennan said, “and to have done my best to carry that wave forward and to help push things forward and pass things on to future generations as well.”

    APU’s Rosie Brennan (r) embraces close friend and APU teammate, Becca Rorabaugh (l), after they finish first and second, respectively, in the Women’s 1.5 k Classic Sprint at the 2015 U.S. Cross Country Championships in Houghton, Mich.

    Starting Late, Staying Long Enough

    Brennan started skiing at 14, late by the standards of an international sport where many athletes first step onto a set of fish scales as young children. But she never saw her development as a simple matter of being behind.

    “I was older when I kind of found top-level success in podiums on the World Cup,” Brennan said. “But because I started skiing so late, I guess I never really saw it that way.”

    In her mind, the clock did not start with age, but when she first found herself on a pair of skis.

    “If you look at when I started at 14 to when I had success, those accumulated hours of skiing and training are probably actually fairly equivalent to somebody who started at eight,” Brennan said. “So I always just chose to look at it that way, as if it was just going to take time to learn those skills, and it was fine that I started late.”

    “I’m not good at being patient,” Brennan said.

    But skiing gave her little choice. It took time to develop the specific strengths required of the sport, to learn how to race and to absorb the small skills that many skiers pick up almost without realizing it when they start young. Brennan had to build the engine and the instincts at the same time.

    There were moments when she wondered whether it was worth it. In college, after injuries and difficult stretches, she decided she was done with skiing when she graduated. She looked toward other paths. At times, she quit, or at least tried to. But the sport kept pulling her back.

    “I think what I enjoyed the most that made me keep coming back was just the challenge of it,” Brennan said. “Waking up every day with some purpose to get a little bit better, and to have the challenge of seeing if it was possible.”

    Eventually, that challenge became a way of life.

    “I just learned to really enjoy and thrive and love the lifestyle of skiing,” Brennan said. “And so that made it a lot easier to just keep coming back.”

    Brennan is quick to point out that she did not do that alone. The support systems around her mattered. At Dartmouth and later at Alaska Pacific University, she found teams and coaches that helped her keep believing when she could not quite do it herself.

    “There were definitely moments that it’s easy to question, and it’s hard to keep going,” Brennan said. “I was really fortunate to be part of some really, really amazing groups, and have coaches that fostered that belief in me, and made me see things in myself that I couldn’t see on my own.”

    Rosie Brennan celebrates her victory and first World Cup podium after the freestyle sprint in Davos, Switzerland. Photo: NordicFocus

    When the World Was Put on Notice

    For years, Brennan’s career was a slow and steady build, but then came that famous weekend in Davos.

    In December of 2020, during a World Cup season shaped by the uncertainty of the pandemic, Brennan won twice in two days in Switzerland. On Saturday, she claimed her first career World Cup victory, in a freestyle sprint, and then the very next day, she won again in the 10-kilometer freestyle.

    From the outside, it looked like a breakthrough and a historic moment for U.S. skiing. Brennan does not dispute that. She says what stays with her the most now is not only the winning, but everything she had to manage in order to ski that way.

    “Davos 2020 was definitely a breakthrough moment for me,” Brennan said. “That year was challenging for the whole world, and being a ski racer during that time certainly had its challenges too.”

    The uncertainty of that season weighed heavily. Rules changed, travel was complicated and athletes did not always know whether races would happen. The risk of illness carried not just health concerns, but career implications for athletes whose bodies were their livelihoods.

    Taking the victory and the sled, Rosie Brennan stands atop the podium in Davos, Switzerland. (Left to right) Anamarija Lampic (SLO) 2nd, Brennan (USA) 1st, Natalia Nepryaeva (RUS) 3rd.

    “I really struggled with the anxiety of it all,” Brennan said. “Just never knowing — traveling in foreign countries, where the rules were changing all the time, and you didn’t know what would happen if you got sick.”

    Hence why Davos still means something more than two entries on a results page. Brennan was proud of the wins, of course, but she was even more proud of how she managed everything around them.

    “It definitely showed me what I was capable of,” Brennan said, “and that I could manage these really high-stress environments and all the uncertainty and thrive in that setting.”

    That weekend did not just give Brennan her first World Cup wins. It helped confirm the range she had been building toward for years. Later that season, she became the first American to hold the overall World Cup leader’s bib, sprint leader’s bib and distance leader’s bib at the same time. Which was both a major accomplishment and also a fitting reward for all the work she had put in to become a more complete racer.

    Jonna Sundling (SWE), with a commanding victory in the 2022 Olympic individual freestyle sprint, comes to the finish with Rosie Brennan (USA) in the background on her way to fourth. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    What the Career Adds Up To

    Brennan will take a step back from her professional career after amassing quite the résumé, representing the United States at the 2018, 2022 and 2026 Winter Olympics. She finished fourth in the freestyle sprint at the Beijing Olympics in 2022, the kind of result that can feel both extraordinary and excruciating, by missing out on an Olympic podium by a single place. She reached World Cup podiums across seasons and disciplines. She became a two-time World Cup winner, a fixture in the American women’s team and one of the athletes who helped move the U.S. from occasional contender to regular presence near the front of international races.

    But Brennan’s own accounting of her career is not limited to the results she garnered over the years. She is proud of showing up. Proud of learning. Proud of becoming competitive in every event. Proud of the people who helped her and the younger athletes she helped in return. Proud that a career that could have ended several times kept expanding instead.

    That may just be why the end of her World Cup career does not feel like a true breakup. For Brennan, skiing was never just a job. It provided her with structure, challenges, community, identity and gave her something to work toward every day and a way to test what was possible. Even now, when she is no longer organizing her life around World Cup racing, she says she’s not suddenly becoming someone else.

    “When you train that many years, it’s hard,” Brennan said. “I’m still going out twice a day most days, because it just feels so normal to me.”

    That may change when she starts school again and other commitments begin to fill the space skiing once occupied. Brennan says she plans to pursue new interests and give attention to parts of herself that the World Cup lifestyle did not always allow. But the habits of a skier are not easy to unwind, and she does not seem especially eager to unwind all of them.

    “I definitely hope to bring forward a lifestyle that’s active, that treats your body well, that’s also willing to push yourself and see where the limits are,” Brennan said.

    Rosie Brennan (USA) during the individual sprint qualification at the final World Cup weekend this past March in Lake Placid, New York. (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)

    Rewiring, Not Retiring

    That is why “rewiring” works. Brennan is not flipping a switch. She is just rearranging the circuitry.

    There will be no more full World Cup campaign, no more life built entirely around the next race weekend. But there will still be skiing, there will still be movement and there will still be competition. The habits and lessons of her career that she built through years of resilience and patience are not things Brennan expects to leave behind.

    “I’m sure there are countless skills, probably most of the skills I’ve learned in my adult life, that I will have to lean on in any of the various careers that I may pursue, and in my studying as well,” Brennan said. “The lessons that I’ve learned will undoubtedly come with me, along with the character and strength that I’ve built throughout my career.”

    Those lessons were built through the less tidy parts of Brennan’s career, from the late start and the years before the podiums to the injuries and doubts that forced her to keep adjusting. But the same career that asked so much of her also gave her something lasting. Skiing was more than a pursuit or a profession, it was the driving rhythm of her adult life, and one she still feels lucky to have followed for so long.

    “It’s definitely an incredible lifestyle to be a ski racer,” Brennan said. “I feel insanely lucky to have called that my career, and to have done so for so long.”

    That gratitude does not make the transition simple. After so many years of organizing life around training, racing and the rhythm of the World Cup, stepping back from that structure means more than changing a schedule. It means figuring out what skiing looks like when it is no longer the center around which everything else has to turn.

    Rosie Brennan (USA) during her final World Cup of her career — the 20 k Freestyle Mass Start in Lake Placid (USA). (Photo: Thibaut/NordicFocus)

     

    But there is also freedom in that. Brennan no longer has to prove she belongs. She already did. And now, instead of defining skiing only through the World Cup, she gets to decide what parts of it she wants to keep.

    Maybe that means races. Maybe it means long days outside. Maybe it means testing herself in new settings, with new stakes, away from the circuit that shaped so much of her adult life. Maybe it means all of that.

    What seems clear is that Brennan is not disappearing from the sport. She is stepping out of one version of it and into another.

    She is retired, if that is the word people want to use. But it is not the sunset kind. Not the final-page kind.

    For Rosie Brennan, skiing will always be there, just not in the all-consuming way it once was. Now, she gets the chance to redefine her relationship with the sport as something woven into the life she is building next.

    “It’s truly been a dream,” Brennan said.

     

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    Brennan’s U.S. teammates wait at the line to greet her after her final World Cup race, a 20-kilometer start in Lake Placid on March 22. (Photo: NordicFocus)
  • The U.S. Ski Team Star You Won’t See on Snow This Weekend

    The U.S. Ski Team Star You Won’t See on Snow This Weekend

    On Friday afternoon, as World Cup sprinters snap into their skis in Trondheim and the SuperTour fields gather in Fairbanks, one of the United States’ most electrifying young Nordic athletes will step onto an entirely different stage. Stanford University, the No. 1 seed in the NCAA Women’s Soccer Tournament, is marching toward the College Cup—and at the center of it all is a player who, in just a matter of days, will also begin her bid for the U.S. Olympic Cross-Country Ski Team.

    The athlete is Sammy Smith: 20 years old, a national-team skier, an Environmental Systems Engineering major, and a starter for one of the most dominant college soccer programs in the country. The U.S. Ski Team views her as one of the most promising sprinters of her generation. And yet this weekend, instead of warming up on hard-packed snow in Norway or chasing early-season points in Alaska, she’ll be preparing to face Duke with advancing to the NCAA Championship Game on the line.

    “Get ready to cheer for one of the U.S. Ski Team’s top skiers this weekend,” you might tell Nordic fans. “Just… not on skis.”

    From the outside, the collision of seasons looks impossible to manage. For Smith, it is simply the life she has known since childhood.

    Idaho in Two Parts

    Smith grew up in a pattern that almost feels mythic now: winters in Sun Valley, summers and the rest of the year in Boise. Her family built the rhythm—her mom moving the kids north each winter so they could ski full-time and homeschool them in those snowy months.

    “I kind of grew up splitting time between Boise and Sun Valley,” Smith says. “My mom would move up to Sun Valley during the winter with my siblings and me so we could ski, and she would homeschool us up there… I did that all through high school.”

    In Boise, she was a typical public school student. In Sun Valley, she became a multi-sport anomaly. Her childhood was not just active—it was encyclopedic.

    “Growing up, I played about every sport one can imagine,” she says. “I ran track and cross country all through high school… I played hockey for a long time. Played football. Yeah, like, you name it, I pretty much did it.”

    Soccer was the constant. She started as soon as a child could sign up—though the Smiths occasionally bent age rules to make sure she could play with older kids. When her older sister started soccer, she was right behind her.

    “It’s probably like three years old when I started,” Smith says.

    And then there was freestyle skiing—a considerable part of her identity, something she expected to pursue more seriously than Nordic. Until one day, she couldn’t.

    “I ended up fracturing my tibia in my sophomore year,” she says. “And so I focused on Nordic that winter… I ended up having a great season, and then haven’t really looked back since.”

    The transition was abrupt, but the groundwork had already been laid: years of downhill confidence, years of skiing, years of learning to read terrain and push limits.

    “I’ve been on skis my entire life,” she says. “Very comfortable on downhills… I love to ski aggressively.”

    The athlete emerging in those years was already something unusual. The athlete she would become—balancing multiple sports at world-class levels—was still unimaginable.

    Against the Specialization Tide

    From the outside, Smith’s career appears to defy the common wisdom of modern youth sports. Increasingly, top athletes specialize early; by high school, many are all-in on one discipline.

    Smith resisted that. Not because she lacked ambition, but because multiple sports gave her joy—and made her better.

    “I think that’s something I’ve really thought a lot about,” she says. “There’s been more and more pressure to specialize… but growing up and doing so many different sports just kind of added to different components of skiing that I think are really important.”

    Soccer, for example, translates directly into sprint racing.

    “It’s a very high-paced game,” she says. “There’s a lot of change of direction, a lot of accelerating and decelerating. Particularly when you’re looking at heats, a lot of it is reacting to other people’s moves, trying to find little gaps and squeeze through.”

    The skill set becomes a competitive edge: quickness, agility, and decision-making under pressure.

    “That ability to shift gears really quickly and take openings when you can really emulates in soccer,” she says.

    Freestyle skiing contributed something else entirely: creativity and courage on skis, especially in chaotic or technical downhill sections.

    “At World Juniors last year,” she recalls, “everyone was in the track. I hopped out of the track, went far on the inside, and just double poled… It was a risky move, but it was something I saw.”

    She paused for only a moment before going all-in. It worked.

    The blend—soccer fuel, freestyle instinct, Nordic engine—gives her a uniqueness rarely seen in American skiing.

    U.S. Ski Team head coach Matt Whitcomb sees it clearly.

    “She’s a world-class athlete,” Whitcomb says. “She’s already exhibited the early signs of being a World Cup star.”

    That she is doing this while starting for Stanford’s soccer team? To him, it’s not a contradiction. It’s part of the magic.

    Why Stanford — and Why Now

    Choosing Stanford was not simple. Smith had options—many of them. But a few factors stood out.

    “I really value my education,” she says. “Stanford’s a great school. It’s where my mom went. And my sister is also on the soccer team, so the opportunity to get to play college soccer with her is pretty hard to pass up.”

    Her academic path—Environmental Systems Engineering with an energy concentration—fits a pattern among elite U.S. skiers. Many of the top men (Gus Schumacher, Ben Ogden, et al.) have gravitated toward engineering. Smith sees the overlap, too.

    “You look at a skier and the training that they do,” she says. “They’re very self-motivated, very committed. So I’m sure certain aspects translate pretty well.”

    The challenge, of course, is that Stanford is far from snow. It is not close to ski culture. It is not close to the European World Cup circuit. It is very near, however, to one vital piece of equipment:

    “Fortunately, I have a classic roller-ski treadmill… in a little office space,” she says. “That’s been an irreplaceable part of my training.”

    She uses it for high-quality sessions, often squeezed between classes, labs, or soccer obligations. Running remains a central component, helped by the demands of soccer conditioning.

    But she knows her preparation is different—less volume, more precision. Not ideal. Not textbook. Not expected. And yet:

    “I think I’ve tried to accept that,” she says. “I know that I am not at my best, but skiing is a sport you can do for a very long time. I don’t necessarily need to be the best skier I can be at 20 years old.”

    Again, Whitcomb backs the long view.

    “We’re willing to postpone that timeline,” he says. “We’re just happy for Sammy being happy in her current environment. We’ll take what we can get at this moment, but we want more down the road, and we’re excited for it.”

    This, in many ways, is the crux of the story: the U.S. Ski Team is betting on Sammy Smith not despite her dual identity, but because of it.

    Samantha Smith (USA) racing the World Cup individual sprint in Goms (SUI). (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)

    The Final Four — and Then the Sprint Start Line

    The most astonishing part of Smith’s season is its timing.

    If Stanford beats Duke on Friday in Kansas City, they move directly to the College Cup championship game. The semifinal is December 5th; the final is December 8th, Monday. Smith has already mapped out the days that follow.

    “We’ll get back Tuesday night from Missouri… I have a final at 8 a.m. Wednesday morning,” she says. “I’m going to fly out right after my final, and then I’ll have one day of snow on Thursday in Alaska, and then I’ll be hitting that sprint on Friday.”

    She says this calmly, matter-of-factly, like someone describing a standard weekend trip.

    The Anchorage SuperTour sprint is not just any race—it is her re-entry into skiing, her first day on snow of the season, and a crucial tune-up before U.S. Nationals in Lake Placid, where she hopes to qualify for the Olympic team.

    The Anchorage races, she says, are not performance indicators—they are simply a way to “bust the rust off.”

    “Obviously, a lot of other skiers will have been on snow for well over a month, and I won’t, she says. “It’ll just be an opportunity to get on skis, do something fast.”

    Her real focus is the 10-day window between Anchorage and Lake Placid.

    “For me, as more of a sprinter, and the way the criteria is set up, I’ve got to target the qualifiers, she says. “So being really deliberate… knowing exactly what I’m going for.”

    The stakes are simple: she must race well at U.S. Nationals to have a shot at Milano-Cortina.

    The stakes are also massive.

    Julia Kern and Sammy Smith paired up for the Team Sprint in Lahti (FIN). (Photo: Nordic Focus)

    The Domestic Gamble

    If Smith had a regular ski season—if she weren’t in the NCAA Tournament—she might have chased World Cup points, fought to crack the top 45, and used international racing to establish selection priority.

    But that route is closed.

    “If you’re only racing a few of the international races, it’s incredibly challenging to get into that top 45, she says. “Whereas if you were able to do all of them, it’s a lot more feasible.”

    She knows she has “had some really good World Cup sprints, and she wonders—without bitterness—what might be possible in a different academic or athletic setup.

    But this year, it is the domestic route or nothing.

    “That’s what I’m planning on, she says. “I need to have some killer races at U.S. Nationals.”

    What sounds like a gamble is, for her, simply the version of the sport she can access this season. And she is okay with that.

    “Just being consistent… being intentional, she says. “Doing what I can.”

    Who She Wants to Be

    Ask Smith what success looks like decades from now, and she doesn’t list medals or championships.

    “You look at Jessie’s legacy, she says, referencing Jessie Diggins. “The amount of skiers she’s inspired and how much she’s done for the sport… I want people to look back on my career and feel like I’ve done a lot for the sport, inspired the younger generation of skiers, and brought a lot back to my community.

    It is the kind of answer that feels too mature for her age, but entirely in character.

    She is not racing to avoid mistakes—she is racing toward something: possibility, growth, a long future. Maybe a future on the World Cup. Maybe a future in engineering. Maybe a future doing both.

    But first, she has Duke.

    Samantha Smith (USA) racing the World Cup individual sprint in Minneapolis (USA). (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)
    Samantha Smith (USA) racing the World Cup individual sprint in Minneapolis (USA). (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)

    The Athlete You’ll Watch Twice This Month

    When you tune in this Friday—whether you are a Nordic diehard refreshing live timing from Trondheim, or an American fan checking SuperTour results—remember that one of the most important U.S. prospects in cross-country skiing will be competing too. She just happens to be wearing soccer cleats instead of ski boots.

    And next week, she’ll be back on snow, sprinting against the country’s best, staking her claim for a place on the Olympic team.

    The duality is not a distraction for Sammy Smith.

    It is her identity.

    It is what built her.

    And it might be what carries her into the future of American skiing.

    “She’s been playing a ton this year, Whitcomb says. “Of course, we want her all to ourselves… but we want more down the road, and we’re excited for it.”

    This weekend, she wants one thing: a berth in the College Cup Final.

    Next weekend, another: a ticket to the Olympics.

    Two worlds.

    Two uniforms.

    One athlete.

    A lot of people will be cheering for Sammy Smith this month. Nordic fans just get to do it twice.

     

    *You can watch #1-ranked Stanford vs. #2-ranked Duke in the women’s College Cup semifinal tomorrow, Friday, December 5, at 8:45 p.m. EST on ESPNU. The game can also be streamed on the ESPN app, Fubo, or Hulu.

     

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    Sammy Smith (USA) in the World Cup individual sprint in Tallinn (EST). (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)
  • Novie McCabe’s Winding Trail to the Olympic-Season Start Line

    Novie McCabe’s Winding Trail to the Olympic-Season Start Line

    When Novie McCabe spoke with FasterSkier early last month, she was looking out the window of her place in Anchorage, waiting for winter to finally take hold. “We’re patiently waiting on snow,” she said. “But today might be the day.

    Outside, the ground was still in its in-between phase—too brown for grooming, just white enough that fish-scale skis could work if you were stubborn and optimistic about it. Alaska in November often asks skiers to hover in that liminal space: ready but not yet racing; fit but not yet tested; hopeful but not naïve.

    This week, the waiting ends—at least for the top domestic circuit. The U.S. SuperTour season opens in Fairbanks and continues in Anchorage next weekend, but McCabe hopes her body will allow her to join the field. After a long, uncertain stretch, simply lining up for even one race would mark a meaningful step forward. The timing makes this the right moment to trace how she has arrived at this threshold, and how the places she has lived—Methow Valley, Salt Lake City, Anchorage, Europe—continue to shape the skier she is becoming.

    Laura, Sean, and young Novie McCabe. (Photo: Courtesy Photo)

    The Valley That Built Her

    The story begins in the Methow, where winter is less a season than an identity. “I grew up in the Methow Valley, which is like a small valley in north central Washington with a pretty big ski community,” McCabe recalled. “I think we have the most Ks in North America or something when the skiing is good.

    Her mother, former U.S. Ski Team athlete Laura McCabe, and her mother’s longtime friend Leslie Hall helped build the Methow Valley Nordic Club from scratch. McCabe grew up inside the culture they created: open, community-driven, relentlessly outdoorsy, and—maybe most importantly—fun.

    “I was lucky enough to have a really big group of kids my age who all just kind of happened to be really close friends,” she said. “We would all just be active together and spend a lot of time outside… backpacking trips all the time together.

    Skiing was less a pursuit than a language. Practice might include ultimate frisbee on skis or just exploring terrain with no agenda beyond movement. “That was the main thing that got me so excited about skiing—the community,” she said. “It was just what all my friends did.

    These early years formed more than her fitness. They gave her a worldview: skiing should be joyful, shared, and balanced.

    “Stay Behind Us—It’s Supposed to Be Easy”

    That mindset came directly from her mother’s coaching style. “My mom… would do all the sessions with us,” McCabe said. The education was intuitive, rooted in feel rather than metrics.

    It was very feeling-based,” she said. “Like, in L3 you should be able to talk to me and give me a sentence back at least when I ask you how you’re feeling.

    Heart-rate monitors were used only sparingly—tools to complement the athlete, not dictate behavior. “We maybe did lactates once or twice the whole time I was in high school,” she said.

    One lesson, in particular, stuck with her. During easy sessions, her mom and Leslie Hall would say:

    “You guys have to stay behind us because it’s supposed to be easy.”

    The rule was simple, but the philosophy was profound: fundamentals come from awareness, not pressure.

    McCabe laughs that even today, in anything resembling an ultra-distance test, the result might still tilt toward her mom: “She might have the upper hand in anything longer than 50 k.

    Novie McCabe during the 20 k Classic at the NCAA Championship hosted by Saint Laurence University in Lake Placid in 2023.  McCabe controlled a pack that also contained her teammates, Sophia Laukli and Sydney Palmer-Leger. McCabe led the UU women, who finished 1st, 3rd, and 5th, on the day that propelled the Utes to their 4th consecutive NCAA Championship. (Photo: (c) Nancie Battaglia).

    Utah and the COVID Bubble

    By the time she left the Methow, McCabe was ready for a bigger arena. She chose the University of Utah for its coaching, competitive team environment, and growth opportunities.

    “At that stage in my life, I was pretty ready for it,” she said.

    Her first year unfolded in the disruptive isolation of COVID—a strange, surreal time that somehow fostered uncommon cohesion.

    It was the heart of COVID isolating, but honestly, kind of in a fun way,” she said. “We were just hanging out as a team all of the time.

    Despite Utah’s reputation as an NCAA powerhouse, she never felt crushed by expectations. “It didn’t feel like a high-pressure situation,” she said. “They were there to help us get the best out of ourselves.

    She balanced training with academics, majoring in political science and minoring in economics. Even then, she was thinking beyond skiing.

    Novie McCabe skiing for APU. (Photo: Courtesy Photo)

    Leaving Eligibility on the Table

    After her third year, she made a difficult decision: she left Utah with two years of NCAA eligibility remaining.

    I just felt kind of ready to move on from the NCAA,” she said. The experience had been positive—”I think everyone should go NCAA… It’s so fun and great for development,”—but the structure had become limiting.

    She wanted freedom: to race World Cups without constant travel back to the U.S., to pursue her development without logistical whiplash.

    I wanted the freedom to race as many World Cups as I wanted during the season and not fly back and forth so much.

    Once she accepted that her path needed to diverge, the next step was obvious.

    Novie McCabe and Luke Jager. (Photo: Courtesy Photo)

    Anchorage and the APU Reboot

    Anchorage had already become a meaningful place—she had been coming there every summer since her first year at the University of Utah. Her partner, Luke Jaeger, is from there. And she had trained with APU coach Erik Flora for years.

    It honestly wasn’t even much of a decision,” she said.

    Flora’s coaching became a stabilizing force. “Erik Flora is really awesome when things are going wrong,” she said. “He knows how to help athletes sort through challenges… It’s never a linear path to success in skiing or any sport.

    APU offered a training environment grounded in trust and peer excellence. “This year there is a pretty big girls’ group,” she said. “Kendall Kramer, Quincy Donley, Annabel Needham, Haley Swirbul, we have a big crew.

    Training with athletes like Rosie Brennan and Swirbul created a layered mentorship:

    They have been and are some of the best in the world.

    Anchorage became the center of her athletic and personal rebuild.

    Novie McCabe joined by family and friends for a climbing adventure. (Photo: Novie McCabe)

    The Year Without Racing

    McCabe didn’t race at all last winter, more or less. At the time, she explained this as part of a balance project—but in reality, the situation was more complicated.

    I have historically been kind of bad at the balance thing,” she said. “My happiness is sometimes quite dependent on skiing.

    That year became a forced reset, with significant emotional and physical consequences.

    I think I’ve gotten better at it,” she said. “I’ve found some things that I really do like to do outside of skiing.” She mentioned baking, cooking, reading, and spending time outside in ways that weren’t tied to training logs.

    Yet she was still searching for answers.

    One of Novie Mccabe’s (USA) career highlights was her top 15 finish in Falun, Sweden in a Classic race. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    A Quiet Battle Behind the Scenes

    After our original conversation, McCabe followed up with more context—an important layer we had not fully jumped into earlier. For the past two years, she has been navigating what she called “some mystery health challenges,” a swirl of symptoms that worsened last fall to the point where racing no longer felt possible.

    The best guess of most of the doctors I have seen is some sort of post-viral or chronic fatigue thing,” she wrote, “possibly combined with some issues keeping my celiac and Hashimoto’s in check, but I am still not really sure what is going on to be honest.

    She spent the winter searching for stability rather than start lines.

    I have taken a pretty cautious approach to training this year and just been trying to build back into it super slowly and give a lot of extra attention to rest and recovery,” she said. “And I do feel like I made some solid progress.

    Even now, she remains cautious. “The past two weeks have been a bit of a step backward,” she said. She’s not entirely sure she will race in Fairbanks. Her hope is modest: “One race there and one race in Anchorage, just to give myself a bit more recovery between hard efforts.

    Still, the optimism in her message is unmistakable.

    It means a lot to be back in a place where racing seems like more of a possibility.

    I will definitely consider it a win if I get to do some racing this year and make some more progress toward feeling like myself again.

    McCabe credits her teammates with helping her develop the traits that won her recognition. Here she is training in Beijing with Hailey Swirbul, Hannah Halvorsen, and Sophia Laukli. (Photo: Novie McCabe)

    Team USA on the Road

    The U.S. Ski Team’s culture is widely celebrated—glitter, dance videos, and road-trip camaraderie. McCabe grew up watching those clips.

    I would see their dancing videos from the World Cup and be like, ‘That just looks like the best time ever.’”

    But she knows now that joy is a decision, especially when you’re far from home. “Sometimes you have to decide that it’s going to be a good time,” she said. “Everyone does an excellent job of being good teammates.

    That environment matters, especially in challenging seasons.

    Novie McCabe skates a strong third leg for Team USA in the 4 x 5 k relay at the Beijing Olympics in 2022. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    Europe: Brown Cheese, Ferris Wheels, and Perspective

    Her memories of Europe arrive in flashes of color rather than race results.

    I love brown cheese,” she said. “You can get it here, of course, but it’s not as good.

    She recalls Trondheim at Christmas—”Ferris wheel and everything“—and moments where she stepped outside the hotel room and let herself experience the place.

    These glimpses matter because they remind her of what she still wants from her career: a stable return to the World Cup, a chance to live in that rhythm again.

    And through all her travels, she keeps a single talisman:

    Katherine Ogden made me a crochet octopus one year… I’ve brought it along as a good luck charm ever since.

    Novie McCabe after the World Cup 10k in Falun, Sweden, in 2024. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    The SuperTour Returns — and She Hopes to Join It

    Which brings the story back to this week, and the opening races of the season. “I haven’t started a season domestically in like four or five years,” McCabe said. But she’s doing this season differently.

    She is hopeful she will race—one race in Fairbanks, one in Anchorage, if her body allows. More than anything, she wants to be thoughtful and patient.

    My main goal is to make the Olympics,” she said. But this winter, her priority is health. “Being able to race and stay healthy and recover… that would look like a win for me.

    The Olympic qualification system is, as she put it, “really complicated“—top-45 overall rankings, top-8 results, SuperTour contingencies. But she isn’t thinking that far ahead yet.

    She’s thinking about one start line. One bib. One race that feels like progress.

    Becoming Who She Meant to Be

    If you fast-forward five years, she still knows exactly where she wants to be.

    I, for sure, dream about being one of the best skiers in the world,” she said. “I hope to be able to compete with the best one day.

    She also knows this path no longer looks how she imagined it “four years ago.” But she has something she didn’t have then: perspective, patience, and a grounded sense of herself.

    Back in Anchorage early last month, the snow hadn’t fully arrived. It mirrored her season ahead—close, possible, not yet certain. The SuperTour begins this weekend, and McCabe is on the edge of stepping back into the environment she loves.

    Maybe in Fairbanks. Maybe in Anchorage. Maybe later.

    But the hope is real. The joy is returning. And somewhere in her bag, the crocheted octopus is still waiting.

     

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  • The Hilltop Lesson: How Second Place at the NCAA Championship Became Hagenbuch’s Guiding Philosophy

    The Hilltop Lesson: How Second Place at the NCAA Championship Became Hagenbuch’s Guiding Philosophy

    On a bright March afternoon at Dartmouth’s Oak Hill, with a soft and slow course under his skis and a band he himself had organized blasting in the stadium above, John Steel Hagenbuch approached the final climb where he learned something that would shape the early years of his career far more than any podium ever could.

    He had come into the NCAA Championships with the weight of a thousand private dreams — a home championship crescendo and an entire community behind him. Then, with Utah’s Joe Davies charging to the finish line waving the Utes flag and Peter Graves’ voice echoing through the trees, Hagenbuch realized he was not going to win.

    “I got dropped, and it just wasn’t gonna happen,” he says. “I told myself, you’ve got until the top of this hill to be upset about it.”

    John Steel Hagenbuch was all smiles after crossing the 20k Freestyle finish in second place at the 2025 NCAA Championship where he represented Dartmouth College on their home course at Oak Hill. (Photo: Courtesy Photo)

    What happened next wasn’t the reaction of an athlete who had just been beaten in the race he’d been thinking about, talking about, training for, and dreaming about for three years. It was something quieter. Something older. Something that didn’t look like the scripted champion he’d imagined — but ended up becoming the cornerstone of the athlete he is now.

    “I stopped poling,” he says. “And I just kind of skated through the stadium… smiling, waving, like the Penguins of Madagascar — smile and wave.”

    He remembers the sunshine, the thousands of people lining the stadium, the Stripers — Dartmouth’s biggest student band, coaxed back from post-graduation life because he wanted the place to feel alive — and the thrum of friends, professors, fraternity brothers, and family in the crowd.

    “Did I win the ski race? No. But it actually didn’t matter,” he says. “I was just so grateful… all the amazing things in my life that had led me to that point.”

    Every day since, he thinks about that race. “But not for the reasons you’d expect.”

    John Steel Hagenbuch (USA) racing the World Cup opener in Ruka (FIN) in 2023. (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)

    Muonio, Finland: The Final Quiet Before the Season Begins

    Eight months later, Hagenbuch is sitting in a small room in Muonio, Finland, speaking over a fickle internet connection. Outside, winter is closing in; inside, the early-season nervous energy is beginning to hum.

    “It’s been a good way to start the season,” he says of the classic sprint and 10k skate he raced the previous weekend. “Hopefully more to come.”

    He will likely stay on the World Cup through the Tour de Ski. His primary goal, stated simply and without ornament, is clear: “Primary goal is to go to the Olympics. Everything else is secondary.”

    He’s 24, still at Dartmouth — technically a senior, though he took this fall off to focus on training. When winter term begins on January 7, he’ll be back in class, shifting between World Cups and essays, navigating the dual life of a college student and a professional skier the way only NCAA athletes truly understand.

    But he is not rushed. Not impatient. Not gripping the rail of his career with white knuckles.

    He learned something on that hill at Oak Hill, something that has become his ballast. “It reminds me why I do this, he says. “And why this sport is so special.”

    Before he was an NCAA champion, skiing on the World Cup, and a trying to qualify for the Olympics, John Steel Hagenbuch was just a kid who loved skiing around on the trails of Sun Valley, ID. (Photo: Courtesy Photo)

    The Long View: Three Olympics and a Full-Moon Ski

    Hagenbuch surprises you with the distance of his vision.

    When asked about the future, he doesn’t talk only about Milano-Cortina in 2026. He talks about three Olympics — a decade of life sketched out in calm, confident lines.

    “I would love to go to the next three Olympics, he says. “Milano-Cortina, then the French Alps, and then retire at the Salt Lake City 2034 Games.”

    Soldier Hollow, where he has raced “probably 50 times, would be the perfect ending. But it’s not the race he imagines most clearly. Not the ceremony. Not the result.

    It’s the lead-up.

    “What will be the crown jewel of my ski career, he says, “is having the 2034 Olympic pre-camp in Sun Valley. At my house. With all the fellows.”

    He can picture it already: the team skiing at Prairie Creek under a full moon, crispy tracks at 15 degrees after a sunny day, the quiet of the Sawtooths pressing close.

    “That’s what I’m gonna remember when I’m 75, he says. “That Prairie Creek ski.”

    In this way, Hagenbuch does not think like most 24-year-old athletes. He thinks like someone who has already lost something, already gained something, and has made peace with what remains.

    A Training Philosophy Built on Feel (and a Fearless Lack of Overthinking)

    In an era where professional endurance athletes run lactate strips daily and analyze heart-rate drift with the devotion of day traders, Hagenbuch stands apart.

    “Do you do lactate testing? I ask him.

    “Maybe like once a year.”

    He trains primarily by feel—not just how his body feels, but what he feels like doing: long backcountry days, ridge runs, mountain biking, skiing deep into the mountains around Sun Valley. There is structure, but only when he believes it should exist.

    “Not taking it too seriously, he says, “and kind of just going by what I would like to do and what I think is going to be fun.”

    June and July? “Absolutely not analytical. Fall? Yes, that’s when he “locks in a bit.”

    And if it ever stops being fun, he says, “I will not stick around.”

    He has seen athletes grind themselves into dust out of fear of what’s next. “I respect the grit, he says, “but… I’m incredibly grateful to have had experiences and opportunities in my life that that’s not the case for me.”

    He isn’t clinging to skiing. He’s choosing it — every day — until it no longer feels right.

    That clarity is rare. Maybe even elite.

    Being cheered up a climb in Soldier Hollow by one of his SVSEF coaches, Rick Kapala, John Steel Hagenbuch proves athletes like him aren’t built by themselves or through the guidance of one coach, they are lifted by a community. (Photo: Tryg Solberg/Courtesy Photo)

    The Consortium: Osgood, Whitcomb, Kapala, and Holmes

    Though he trains by feel, he is not without guidance. His coaching structure is more like a board of advisors — four voices, each offering a different vantage point.

    “I talk with Brayton at Dartmouth, and Matt on the U.S. team, and Rick — my high school coach — and Peter Holmes on the Gold Team, he says. “I get input from all of those guys.”

    When deciding to come to Muonio early, he called all four. Not for permission — for perspective.

    “When I’m at Dartmouth, I do Brayton’s plan, he says. “But if I feel like I need to do something different, he’s totally cool with that.”

    And contrary to what a young elite athlete might hope to hear, most of what they tell him is not “do more.

    Oftentimes, he says, “it’s settled down.”

    Dartmouth College’s John Steel Hagenbuch skied to a 15-second victory on his home trails in the 7.5 k Classic at the NCAA Championship. (Photo: Tobias Albrigtsen)

    The Place That Built Him

    If you want to understand why Hagenbuch thinks the way he does — why gratitude flows so naturally through him, and why he measures life through moments rather than medals — you have to understand Dartmouth.

    “NCAA skiing is a really special thing, he says. “People are going to roll their eyes… but there aren’t a lot of places that have the components Dartmouth has.”

    The social component is not a distraction — it’s a pillar. “Last year, every single guy on the team was in a fraternity, he says. “Different fraternities.”

    He explains the structure: students join Greek life in their sophomore year, after they’ve already found their people, their communities, their balance.

    “Everything acts as a complement, he says. “And providing that much balance… makes everything greater than the sum of its parts.”

    The feeling at NCAAs captured this perfectly. “Anyone who was there, he says, “left thinking two things: college skiing is [so] sick and Dartmouth is [so] sick.”

    He means it.

    And he knows it won’t come again — not in this form.

    Luke Allen, one of his closest friends, once asked an older alumnus if life ever gets as good as Dartmouth skiing. The man looked him straight in the eye and said, “No.

    There was lots of great energy at Oak Hill for the final day of the 2025 NCAA Championship. (Photo: Tobias Albrigtsen)

    The Beauty of Losing

    Here is the strange and elegant truth of Hagenbuch’s current career: his most important athletic memory is a loss.

    He doesn’t hide from that. He doesn’t twist it into “motivation or pretend it fuels some internal fire for revenge.

    Instead, he carries it like a compass.

    “I think about that race every single day, he says. “But not because I lost… It reminds me to be grateful for these amazing people, places, and things in my life.”

    He printed 150 photos at CVS the night before leaving Hanover in August — family, friends, the Haig Glacier, Sun Valley, Dartmouth — and plastered them across his fridge at home.

    “Think how many times a day you walk by your fridge, he says. “All my friends are right there.

    It’s his daily reminder of what matters.

    The Thursday classic race at NCAAs, the unexpected great day, the team’s move from fifth to first — these have become larger in his memory than the race he thought he wanted most.

    “What was the special day at NCAAs? he says. “It was Thursday. I wasn’t even thinking about Thursday. I didn’t care how that one went.”

    And yet: “I had probably my best classic race ever… it was such a culmination of a lot of hard work and belief.”

    This is the philosophy he now lives by: you learn more from your losses, and sometimes the thing you didn’t expect becomes the thing you carry forever.

    John Steel Hagenbuch, who won the 7.5k Classic, celebrates with his teammates after the three raced Dartmouth into the NCAA Championship lead. (Photo: Courtesy Photo)

    The Advice Only Someone Who Has Lived It Can Give

    At the Haig Glacier last summer — years after his last high school camp there — Hagenbuch offered a piece of advice that caught the younger kids off guard.

    They were expecting training insight. Intensity zones. Technique tweaks.

    Instead, he told them the thing he wishes someone had told him at 15:

    “Be a kid more.”

    Growing up in Sun Valley, he had an idyllic childhood — but he wishes he’d stayed on the high school soccer team after freshman year. Wishes he’d allowed himself to do more of what felt right, not what looked right.

    “Don’t try to do what you think you should do, he says. “Do what you feel you should do.”

    And if your friends are doing something slightly reckless, something that wouldn’t make the parental brochure?

    “Maybe… F-it, do it, he says, laughing. “You’ll figure it out for yourself.”

    Because that, too, is how you learn.

    John Steel Hagenbuch (USA) racing the individual sprint at the Minneapolis World Cup. (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)

    A Career Just Beginning, with the Wisdom of One Already Lived

    Hagenbuch is young — young enough to dream of three Olympic Games, young enough to talk about walking onto the Dartmouth lightweight rowing team or running the 5k or 10k for the track team “as a fun challenge in his final spring on campus.

    But he is also old in the ways that matter. Not jaded — never that. But precise in what deserves his attention, and ruthless in discarding what doesn’t.

    He knows what a good race feels like: “When you finish and think, damn, I could have gone a little harder.”

    He knows what a good life feels like: something filled with people and place, community and joy, full-moon skis and carnival tailgates and the band you recruited yourself playing you through the stadium after a loss.

    And he knows — already — that the real currency of this sport isn’t medals, nor money, nor even wins.

    “If you wanted to have glory or make money in sports, he says, “we’re all doing the wrong sport.”

    So what is it about?

    “It’s about the things I’ve talked about, he says. “It’s the parking lot tailgates. The little antics in the van. The dumb jokes with your boys. The feeling of being part of something bigger.”

    And that’s why the NCAA hilltop moment carries him into this World Cup season — a season he hopes travels through Italy, under Olympic lights, wearing the colors he’s dreamed about.

    Because that hill taught him the thing every great athlete eventually learns:

    Sometimes the race you don’t win becomes the story you never stop telling.

    Sometimes the best version of your career begins the moment you stop being upset… and start taking in the view.

     

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  • Holding Her Own: Rosie Brennan’s Quiet Mastery of Independence on the World Cup

    Holding Her Own: Rosie Brennan’s Quiet Mastery of Independence on the World Cup

    The first flakes had finally settled on the branches behind Rosie Brennan’s window in Anchorage. “Yeah, finally,” she said, turning from the screen toward the light outside. “God, it was slow to come, but we are getting there.” Snow matters in November for any cross-country skier. Still, for Brennan—now entering her fifteenth season on the U.S. Ski Team—it has always represented something deeper: familiarity, grounding, the landscape she moves through on her own terms.

    Independence, more than victory or longevity, is the quiet force running through her career. Long before she became an Olympian or a World Cup all-arounder, before the podiums and the endurance of her late-blooming rise, she was a kid in Park City who needed space—space to move, explore, test herself, figure out where she belonged. Ski racing would give her a path, but the structure of the World Cup would also challenge the part of her that had always craved autonomy.

    Rosie Brennan (USA) celebrates after finishing 2nd in the 10 k classic race in Ruka, Finland in 2023. The result was Brennan’s first classic World Cup podium of her career. (Photo: Nordic Focus)

    “I’m a very independent person,” she told me. “So to suddenly be told what your day is gonna look like every single day is mentally… exhausting for me.” It’s the kind of line that quietly explains everything: her training, her rituals, her late-career resilience, and the internal negotiations required to live five months of every winter inside a system built around tight schedules, shared spaces, and routines she cannot control.

    That independence—both threatened and defended—shapes the story of Brennan’s life in skiing as much as any result sheet.

    From the FasterSkier Archives: While I never actually went cross country skiing with my Dad, he was incredibly influential in his love for the outdoors and ability to truly enjoy life. My dad taught me to alpine ski and mountain bike, both were activities in which he challenged me and was always up for a race. I don’t know if my mom will ever get over just how much I ski like him. My dad had a great ability to do things in a big way in order to maximize the enjoyment out of each adventure and he did so with incredible passion. I can’t say I have fully learned this yet, but his spirit and enjoyment of life certainly are in me and I think often about how to embrace this a little more each day. At the very least, I have learned to be very passionate about the things I love. My favorite place in the world is the Southern Utah desert and I think my love for the desert stems entirely from family fun, particularly with my Dad.”

    A Childhood of Motion

    Brennan grew up in Park City, not in some improbable ski-wilderness origin story, but in a family that valued movement the way others emphasize music lessons or math tutoring. “Everyone did outdoor activities, she said. “We were pretty typical in that sense. Winters were alpine ski weekends. Summers meant hiking and biking. Gymnastics arrived because she liked the conditioning. Soccer came because she could run “a whole game.”

    She was athletic but not yet an athlete. “I participated in soccer, she said, without pretense. “I won’t say I was crazy competitive in that. And same with gymnastics—I didn’t compete at all, but I really loved it.”

    What she loved about gymnastics, specifically, she said, was the work:

    I think it was more, actually, just the strength component… the actual conditioning part. That’s what I really liked.”

    The shift toward cross-country skiing came from her mother, whose winter rule was simple: pick an activity. “She was the one who just kept suggesting, ‘You should try the Nordic team,‘” Brennan said. Finally, I was like, well, I got no better idea, so fine, I’ll try it.”

    If her mother’s persistence nudged her toward snow, the 2002 Salt Lake Olympics made the possibility feel real. Brennan was in seventh grade. Her family hosted a Nordic combined athlete. Youth camps sprang up everywhere across Utah.

    “I think a lot of it was subconscious, she said. “But that obviously had a massive impact on my wanting to pursue other things.”

    Then came the moment that still feels slightly mythical in her telling: she found skiing, and skiing made sense to her in a way nothing else had.

    “I could see the path forward, she said. “It was just… really motivating to me.”

     

    The First Signs of Something

    Her early results were small but decisive. “I actually won my first race, but there were only two people in it, she said, laughing. But I honestly think that was kind of powerful for me. Like, oh—if I can beat one person, I can probably beat some other people.”

    Within two years, she went from missing Junior Nationals to winning all the distance races at JOs. She remembers calling her mom.

    “Mom, I won.”
    “No, you didn’t.”
    “No—really, I did.”

    When Brennan made World Juniors and cracked the top ten, she earned her first spot on the U.S. Ski Team. It felt surreal, but the reality is that she wasn’t fast because of some stroke of talent. She was fast because she’d been training with boys for years, trying to keep up. “It was one of those social situations in which it’s like, keep up or don’t have friends, she said. “So I was like, all right, I’m keeping up.”

    Her team was small, her training unorthodox. “I did quite high intensity for junior, she said. “But very low volume. Meanwhile, she ran fall seasons because running was what she could control.

    Autonomy was already the central language of her development.

    Rosie Brennan (DAR) Lake Placid SuperTour 2011

    The Dartmouth Choice

    By the time she visited colleges, Brennan had become a known junior—national team member, World Juniors top-10 skier, and a real recruit. Her first choice was Colorado. They didn’t offer a scholarship. Dartmouth didn’t offer scholarships either, but it did offer something better: Cami Thompson-Graves.

    “Her investment was in me and not, like, an NCAA title, Brennan said. “That was very obvious… she was willing to help me manage all of it.”

    Dartmouth gave her what she needed: an independent women’s team after training primarily with men, a coach who saw the whole person, and a program flexible enough to accommodate a U.S. Ski Team schedule. She raced all four years, graduated in the traditional four, absorbed the mentorship of teammates like Ida Sargent, Sophie Caldwell, and Erica Flowers, and even shared training space with Susan Dunklee.

    Dartmouth let her remain the version of Rosie that worked.

    But the World Cup—its structure, its relentless pacing—would test that.

    Rosie Brennan, Ida Sargent and Sophie Caldwell of Dartmouth, March 2010

    Learning to Live in Europe

    Her early World Cup years were steady—no fireworks, no collapses. She attributes the eventual breakthrough to something simple: time. “If you think about someone who starts at five, she said, “they’re good at 22. That’s the same number of years it took me. It just skewed by a decade.”

    But the other part of her progression came from learning how to survive Europe.

    “I mean, I finally had trained at a consistently high volume, she said. “But I also found it just took a long time to figure out how to manage in Europe.”

    What was so hard about it? Not the racing. Not the waxing. Not the altitude.

    It was the loss of personal freedom.

    “To suddenly be told what your day is gonna look like every single day is exhausting for me, she said. “The freedom of being able to jump in your car and go somewhere—that’s gone for like five months.”

    The World Cup removes the choice of when you sleep, where you eat, and how you move through your day. Athletes share hotel rooms, team vans, dining halls, training sessions, and travel itineraries. It works beautifully for some. For Brennan, it was disorienting.

    There were no models for how to do it differently. “The example they have is Jessie, she said. “She thrives on the road. She’s happy as she can be living in a bag for five months. But if you are not Jessie Diggins, Brennan said, “that’s really hard.”

    So she began—to use her word—to “navigate.”

    I learned to get pretty good at the bus schedule, she said. She found bakeries in every town. She found grocery stores that sold the one piece of candy she liked in that country. She found trails “maybe off the beaten path that she returned to each year. She learned to take mountain days, not for training but for sanity.

    These rituals were tiny, private rebellions—the things she could choose inside a world where most things were selected for her.

    Rosie Brennan and coach Erik Flora (APU) ski on the World Championships sprint course in Trondheim on Wednesday, February 26, 2025. (Nathaniel Herz/FasterSkier)

    A Coach Who Understands Her

    If Europe tested her independence, her relationship with APU Head Coach Erik Flora reinforced it.

    “He has been, like, everything for me, she said. “He’s kind of saved my life many times over.”

    What she means is that Flora understands her wiring. He sees what she cannot always express.

    “He has this ability to just watch you train and know exactly what’s going on in your life, she said.

    That sensitivity carried her through some of the most challenging years of her career. During Covid, Flora couldn’t travel much; last season he could only watch occasional race film. It wasn’t enough. Brennan needed someone who knew her patterns—her real patterns—not just her splits.

    “When I was in the thick of it last winter, she said, “he wasn’t there… that’s why ultimately I did end up coming back [to Anchorage]. I needed some of that support.”

    Their relationship—its longevity, its trust—became essential when her body began to unravel.

    Rosie Brennan (USA) after finishing the 10 K Classic at the FIS Nordic World Ski Championships in Trondheim (NOR). (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus)

    A Year the Body Wouldn’t Cooperate

    For a year now, Brennan has dealt with a medical mystery—post-viral symptoms likely tied to Epstein-Barr reactivation. “It just, like, really screwed up a bunch of my internal systems, she said. “My endocrine system has been shot. The effects were unpredictable: inability to push hard, severe inflammation, poor recovery, and muscle shutdown during intensity.

    “Last season I was struggling with… I just had zero ability to use my muscles to push hard, she said. “I was just racing on base fitness.”

    It wasn’t one bad race. It was the absence of the feeling she loved most that was most frustrating.

     

    The Training Fix

    She and Flora tried to solve it through training, but even threshold sessions wiped her out. “It was more the duration part that was killing me, she said. They tried sub-threshold work. They tried controlled sessions. Nothing stuck.

    So they invented something new: Sub-one-minute Level 4 efforts, hundreds of them, designed to keep neuromuscular pathways awake without triggering overload.

    Basically, what I’ve been doing is what I call micro intervals, she said. “I do go level four, but under a minute, many times.”

    Strength? Gone. “Strength was destroying me, she said. “So I haven’t done any weight-room strength.”

    Endurance? Reduced to what she could handle. “I got to a place where I was like, all right—I’ll have to be super excited when I get to go for an hour.”

    Most of the battle, though, wasn’t physical.

    “There were many times this last year that I have seriously contemplated walking away, she said. “I actually tried pretty hard to in August.”

    But Flora kept calling—checking in, refusing to let her disappear into the uncertainty.

    “I guess I’m not getting away that easy, she said.

    Brennan took second in the 10-k Classic in Trondheim in 2023. 
    Rosie Brennan (USA), Victoria Carl (GER), Ebba Andersson (SWE), (l-r) 10km podium in Trondheim (NOR). (Photo: Modica/NordicFocus).

    Why She Keeps Going

    When asked what pulls her back to the sport each day, Brennan didn’t talk about results, medals, or even the Olympics.

    She spoke of the feeling.

    “I truly love the feeling of being able to push myself, she said. “It gives me this sense of freedom that I can’t find anywhere else.”

    Freedom—that word again. Not competition. Not performance. Not success. Freedom.

    It’s the sensation she’s chased since she was a kid, running entire soccer games simply because she could. It’s the sensation skiing first gave her at 14. It’s the sensation the World Cup often constrains, and the sensation her body has withheld for a year.

    But it’s also the sensation that makes her keep trying.

    She has leaned heavily into mental work this year. Meditation, mindset projects, and conversations with a U.S. Ski Team sports psych, as well as a teammate who has faced similar issues.

    “I was very motivated by her, Brennan said. “It was cool that she was taking this time to strengthen her brain, too.”

    The process has made her reflective, grounded, and more self-aware than at any point in her career.

    Rosie Brennan (USA), shares a podium moment with coach Matt Whitcomb in Ruka, Finland in 2023. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    Leaving for Finland, and What Comes After

    Now, on the eve of the World Cup opener, Brennan is set to travel to Finland. She will not race everything. “Maybe two races a weekend, she said. They’ll experiment. Observe. Adjust. She plans to return to Utah for Christmas, meet with her medical team, and decide what the rest of the season should look like.

    It’s possible I try to race, and it’s a disaster, she said. “We may have to totally redo the plan.”

    She won’t do the Tour de Ski—too risky. The goal is simply to get to the Olympics “in the best way possible.

    The million-dollar question, of course, is whether this will be her last year.

    “I don’t really know, she said. “Most likely something will look different next year. Whether that involves racing or not, I’m not totally sure.”

    But she’s proud of the career she’s built. Proud of navigating Covid. Proud of her longevity. Proud that she became a true all-arounder.

    “That was definitely a big career project, she said. “When I finally did that, it felt really big.”

    Rosie Brennan races the individual freestyle sprint qualifier during the 2022 Olympic Winter Games in Zhangjiakou. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    Holding Her Own

    What emerges from Brennan’s story isn’t a tale of triumph or decline. It’s the portrait of a person who has made peace with the complexity of the life she leads.

    She has learned how to navigate Europe—not by loving it, but by building rituals that let her remain herself within it. She has learned to trust her body even when it betrays her, and to trust her coach when she doesn’t trust herself. She has learned that the World Cup isn’t designed for independence, and that independence—her independence—is worth defending.

    She has also learned that racing is only part of who she is. She’s a geography major who loves the Arctic for its unique beauty, a mountain person who seeks out quiet trails, and a traveler who can always find a town’s best bakery.

    And she’s someone who, after a year of medical uncertainty and near-retirement, still wants one more chance at the feeling she can’t find anywhere else.

    That, ultimately, is why she’s boarding the plane.

    Because even in a world that demands structure, she is still defining her own path.

     

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    We don’t yet know if this season is Brennan’s final curtain call, where she will ski off into the sunset, but we do know she has nothing left to prove.. (Photo: Nordic Focus)
  • Resilient and Focused: Julia Kern Looks Ahead

    Resilient and Focused: Julia Kern Looks Ahead

    Julia Kern racing during the 2019-2020 season in Dresden, Germany. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    Julia Kern finds herself heading into an Olympic season as one of the veterans for the US women’s cross country ski team. At the age of twenty-three, she’s ready to take on the leadership role left by the retirements of long-time team members Sadie Maubet Bjornsen and Sophie Caldwell Hamilton. After a lackluster season — by her own lofty standards — she has shaken off the disappointment, along with a hamstring injury she picked up last fall, to have one of the best summers of training in her career. 

    Kern spoke to FasterSkier in late July about where she’s been, how things are going, her philosophy for dealing with adversity, and her new role on the US women’s team. 

    “So far, the summer has been really good,” said Kern, who completed her degree at Dartmouth this spring with a major in Economics and a minor in Human Centered Design. After graduation and the US Ski Team camp in Bend, Oregon, she rejoined her SMS T2 teammates in Stratton, Vermont. 

    “We’ve had a really solid group training together most days. And it’s been really fun to work with such an incredible team and group every day.”

    Kern has put a special emphasis on improving her double poling this season after working on it on snow in Bend this spring . “We had a few really productive double pole technique sessions there,” Kern said. “I’ve taken what we started doing on snow and have tried to apply it in every training session. The more reps you do, the easier it is to feel that progress. I do feel like my double pole has been better now than in the past, and I want to continue that into the season.”

    Matt Whitcomb, Head Coach of the US Ski Team said that “she’s skiing with the best double poling technique that I’ve ever seen her ski with.”

    Julia Kern pushes through a set of classic intervals with her SMST2 teammates. (Photo: Instagram @juliakernski)

    Kern has also made an adjustment to her strength training, saying, “I’ve changed my strength approach a little bit this year. It’s more of a physical therapy, injury prevention approach.” 

    Kern has been bothered by an injury she picked up last fall. “I don’t know exactly what I did, but I kind of strained my hamstring in November doing some sprints, right before heading over to Europe,” Kern said. “So I’ve been dealing with that. Since it was unfortunate timing right before the season, I couldn’t really heal it up; I just managed it all winter. I kind of had constant pain skiing last year. So this spring, I focused a lot on rehabilitating the injury, working with doctors and PTs, and just have been really consistent with PT to get back to being pain free.”

    “Any injuries are concerning of course,” said Whitcomb. “But it seems to be under control. It’s nothing that’s going to prevent her from being successful.”

    “For the last three weeks, I have had a pain free stretch for the first time since November,” Kern said. “Now, in the last few days, I’ve started to feel it. Progress is never linear, you take two steps forward, one step back. I would say it’s something that I don’t have to consider in my training anymore, which is really awesome.”

    Kern didn’t think that the injury played into last season, which results-wise didn’t go the way she had wished. “I wouldn’t say that was the reason for not having the season I’d hoped for,” she said. “I think I’ve dealt with injuries a lot in the past.”

    The hamstring injury did, however, prevent certain types of training. “It limited my ability to do sprint training, especially classic striding and speeds,” Kern said. “I had to be really careful with my reps. I couldn’t do any plyometrics. So I think in that sense, it changed my training a little bit, but I don’t think it affected in the grand scheme my whole entire season. I don’t think it played that huge of a role.”

    Julia Kern locks eyes on the finish as wins her semi-final heat of the 1.2-kilometer freestyle sprint in Planica, Slovenia. (Photo: NordicFocus)

    Whitcomb praised her resiliency and leadership during a challenging season. 

    “Julia is coming off a season that was disappointing for her,” Whitcomb said. “But even on a disappointing season, an athlete like Julia can still qualify in the top place for sprinters and get 25th in a distance race…so it’s not like it was a disaster. One thing that I find very important to point out with Julia is that with this last season being a huge disappointment for her, you would assume that would be reflected in her general spirit, day to day. When that happens it’s usually almost as if poor days lead to more days when [an athlete doesn’t] perform because it becomes very difficult emotionally to stay focused on how to right the ship. With Julia, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen somebody believe so consistently throughout the season that things are going to turn around. I think that is why currently she’s having one of the best prep seasons that she’s had in a while. It’s because of patience and belief that she’s been able to do that. A lot of athletes put together a bad season and it takes them another season to recover from it because they just can’t turn things around. And Julia just never got stuck in the mud that way.” 

    Kern also reflected on her handling of the season, and what she’ll take away from it as she moves forward through her career. 

    “I would say it was a big learning year for me,” said Kern. “Progress isn’t linear from season to season either. I think it was a very challenging year—I never really found my rhythm, never really raced the way I thought I could, and was a bit confused and baffled for a while. But I think I learned a lot with COVID. It just changed what we normally do in ways that weren’t even intentional. It was an accidental learning year, we didn’t travel for training camps and training was really, really consistent. As a result, I never had really big weeks followed by easy weeks. I just had really consistent weeks, and I learned that maybe that isn’t the best way for my body to train.

    “I’ve always seen this with injuries, where you have certain situations that force a change in how you normally train or behave. Either you learn from it and say, ‘oh, that worked really well and was unexpected,’ or you learn from it say, ‘okay, that’s not what works well. So, how can I figure out what does work?’ I think that’s important for the learning process. When things change, you have to react and then look back and say, ‘okay, was this a positive thing or negative thing’? And, ‘what can I take away from it?’”

    Luckily for Kern, she is familiar with seasons that did not go as expected, and can put this into perspective as still being a valuable part of her overall athletic career. 

    “I have had seasons where things come around pretty late. I thought, ‘Oh, it’ll come around, it’ll come around,’ and it never did, which was a really hard reality. I never really had races like I wanted. But at the same time, I think it was really cool, because it gave me an opportunity to see how I can contribute to the team in other ways.”

    Despite her own struggle, Kern looked outward and found ways to help her team. 

    “One of my big goals this last year was: how can I be a good teammate, even when my performances are far from what I want them to be? It’s easy to be upbeat, and be a good teammate, when you’re on top of the world and things are going well. But it’s really hard to not be a Debbie Downer when you’re just having a tough season and you don’t know why. Especially with COVID [protocols], we were so isolated in our rooms. We couldn’t even do the natural social things that make being on the road really fun. I just took it as an opportunity. How can I learn from this? How can I learn to deal with disappointment and bad races and still be a good teammate? 

    “At the World Championships I ended up racing for three minutes—total. And I was like, ‘Well, I’m here, how can I contribute to the team?’ and that meant helping with glide outs with the wax techs on certain races. It was incredibly rewarding to contribute to the team in a different way and help people succeed, collectively. I think I reframed it in a way of ‘okay, even if I’m not performing my best, I’m still growing as an athlete and learning, and I’m also still contributing to this team even if right now my performances aren’t where I want them to be.’”

    These actions were visible to her coaches; Whitcomb praised Kern’s selfless role on the team. 

    “Julia is an incredible leader. We operate a team where we don’t name captains, we don’t like to have one men’s team leader and one women’s team leader. We really like, and request, and encourage everyone to lead in some way. And Julia is just so creative when it comes to the ways in which she leads, and she’s so bought into the idea of building something where everyone is connected and working together. She’s really a productive athlete, not just for herself, but for her teammates. It’s really, really a coach’s dream to get somebody like this.”

    The women’s skate sprint podium from 2019 SuperTour finals (l-r): Ida Sargent (CGRP) in third, Sadie Bjornsen (APU) first, and Julia Kern (SMS T2) second. (Photo: Reese Brown).

    With team veterans Sadie Bjornsen-Maubet and Sophie Caldwell announcing their retirement from the team this spring, there is a changing of the guard on the women’s national team and Kern is ready to act as a leader for the new generation.

    “It’s crazy to think I went from being the youngest athlete to now being one of the more experienced older athletes on the team,” said Kern. “It’s definitely a transition. But I think it’s also exciting to see the next group of young girls and guys coming up, and I remember when Hailey Swirbul, Katharine Ogden, Hannah Halvorsen, and I were that group when we first joined the team. I just hope to follow in the footsteps of what Sadie and Sophie were able to do for me, and Kikkan [Randall], and Liz [Stephen], and Ida [Sargent did for them]. I mean, they all wanted to share all of their experiences, so that when I came around, I didn’t have to relearn all these tips and tricks about venues or being on the road. I hope I can be that resource to the athletes coming up now, so that they don’t have to have that learning curve. I had the luxury of the older girls teaching me and sharing those experiences, so that when you join the World Cup, you’re not figuring things out, you’re ready to succeed right when you come over.”

    Kern commented that the transition of the team as it ushers in a new era will be “interesting”. Considering the ages of the women starting in Period 1 for the first time during the upcoming season, Sophia Laukli will be 21-years-old, Novie McCabe 20, and Sydney Palmer-Leger 19. 

    “I think that with young people, there comes a different energy, which is really exciting, and a little bit of freshness. When I joined the team, everyone was a seasoned World Cup athlete, so it was very much the same for them every year. Now, there’s going to be a lot more transition of people coming and going. A lot of people will be going to World Cups for the first time, and it’s always exciting to have that. Our team is just pretty open to sharing their experience. There’s a lot to be learned from the younger athletes and older athletes. But yeah, I’m curious to see how the dynamic is. The Bend camp this year was super fun. Everyone’s really engaged with having conversations about the team and beyond. A lot of people are passionate about doing big things collectively.”

    Kern is looking ahead to the Olympic season, focused on her individual goals in sprinting and the success of the team as a whole. “I want to be one of the top sprinters and see if I can consistently start making semifinals and finals,” said Kern. “The sprint’s definitely a big goal of mine, and, of course, to be named to the Olympic team, qualify for the Olympic team, and then give it my best at the Olympics if I get to race. 

    “I’m a huge fan of the team sprint and relay, so if I get named to the Olympic team, fighting for a spot on that team would be an absolute privilege and honor. That’s a big goal of mine that’s motivating, and what’s cool about that too is I train with Jesse [Diggins], Katharine [Ogden], Alayna [Sonnesyn] and Lina [Sutro], and so collectively, I feel like whether we’re training for individual spots or for team results, it’s all one and the same. I think having those team and individual goals is super motivating.”

    With an excellent spring and summer of training, Kern is on track. 

    “I think things are going really well for her right now,” said Whitcomb. “She’s happy and focused and executing some great workouts.” 

    “I’m just excited for more,” Kern said. “More training camps to come, and excitement for the winter.” 

    An ecstatic Julia Kern celebrates her first World Cup podium performance with her coaches after the 1.2-kilometer freestyle sprint in Planica, Slovenia. (Photo: NordicFocus)