Snowmamas Getaway in Park City!

I've had a lot of fun on the slopes with my family this winter but sometimes a girl just needs to have fun. Park City Mountain Resort Marketing Director Krista Parry recruited five moms from various walks of life to contribute to Snowmamas.com and one of our rewards was a getaway weekend.

In style.


And with adrenaline.

(Hanging with The Vacation Gals Jennifer Beth and Kara at Utah Olympic Park. See my previous post about braving that crazy bobsled run).

We went tubing at steep, fast and thrilling Gorgoza Park.


(Picture: Krista, Me, Sugar and Linda as we teetered on the ledge of doom.)

And the snow. Did I mention the snow? On Friday, Park City Mountain Resort received 17 glorious inches of it. That, coupled with my Nordica Hot Rod demo skis made for the best ski day in The History of Amber.

Long and sordid as it is.

(Picture: Me, Krista, Linda and Katja)

There were only two exceptions:

I got separated from the group and encountered expert terrain with thigh-deep snow. Do you know those skiers in the Warren Miller films who effortlessly swoosh down the slopes leaving a spray of sparkling powder in their wake?

I was the very antithesis of that.

And then there was Sugar. I learned very quickly not to stop 10 feet from her because it will result in a roller-derbyesque take-down wherein she called me an unmentionable name.

Hint: it was not at all sweet.

Lest you think the Snowmamas are all work with no play, allow me to dispel these notions. I spent an afternoon brainstorming with some of the greatest minds in social media and family travel including syndicated columnist Eileen Ogintz.

Of course, maybe it's not considered work if you're holed up in a gorgeous cabin with food, new friends and fun.

Even if some of them do call you unmentionable names.

Let's talk Girl Getaways. I've already named Park City as mine. Where would yours be?

Defying the G-force on the Bobsled's Position of Death

I’ve done some crazy things in my life.

I won’t expound upon them because my mother sometimes reads my blog.

Riding in the 4-man bobsled at Utah Olympic Park was the craziest thing I have ever done.

We all know bobsledders go fast—upwards of 90 mph. I was equipped to deal with speed. What I was not prepared for were the excruciating 5 Gs of force weighing down upon me.

To put this into perspective: astronauts only feel 3 Gs during maximum launch and reentry in the Space Shuttle.

It was the first time even my Afro could not defy the forces of gravity.

Some background: I was in Park City last weekend. I have been a part of Park City Mountain Resort’s cutting-edge social media site Snowmamas and my fellow Snowmamas and I congregated for a glorious weekend of skiing, tubing, eating and brainstorming (details in my next post).

Fellow family travel writers The Vacation Gals (Kara, Jennifer and Beth) were also in town. On Saturday afternoon, we toured Utah Olympic Park, which consists of the interactive Alf Engen Ski Museum, the inspiring 2002 Eccles Olympic Winter Games Museum, and a fascinating bus tour of the aerials, ski jump and the combined track venues.

I have done all this before. What motivated me to act as a fourth-wheel was the opportunity to do the bobsled at no charge (a $200 cost).

I figured it would be a roller-coaster on steroids. I did not anticipate it would be like gold medalist Steve Holcomb described as a “minute-long car accident” on one of the fastest tracks in the world.

Jen, Kara and I were assigned to Sled No. 9 and underwent a 30-minute orientation. The room was predominantly filled with chest-thumping, testosterone-oozing men.

And then there was us. But how serendipitous was it that my helmet and sled totally matched my outfit?


In a 4-man bobsled, there is a pilot (driver), positions 2 and 3, and the brakeman in the back. Our instructor Jon described that fourth position as the most aggressive and the one that bears the brunt of the force. For the public ride, the pilot would serve as both driver and brakeman.

You know. Because the person in Position 4 is consumed with a minor thing like not dying.

And who would be insane enough to volunteer for said Position of Death (POD)? Me, of course. Kara and Jennifer gushed gratitude and vowed they would owe me for life. After what I endured on the Comet bobsled, a proper display of indebtedness would be naming their next child after me.

Or, in the very least, their favorite goldfish.

The sled follows 15 curves at speeds only 10 seconds less than the professionals. We were the final competitors. In the public rides, no one does a running start so Jen leisurely entered through the back of the sled, followed by Kara and then me in the POD.

After straddling the person in front of you, the strategy is to shrug your shoulders the entire ride to prevent your head from bobbling around. We used the handles to hold ourselves upright and hang on for dear life.

We were gently pushed off the starting line and that was the final placid moment of our ride. I’m still at a loss for how to describe the sensation of having 5 Gs of force crushing down upon you. It was painful. It was fascinating. It was thrilling. But mostly it was just excruciating.

When I watched bobsledders on TV, I always assumed their head bobbing was due to the velocity but it is more attributed to defying the forces exerted by gravity.

This video is a primer for our ride:



Please excuse the last few seconds of the video that were filmed sideways. In our defense, that was our angle as we barreled down the track.

Upon finally coming to a stop, my first thought was, “That was the most unbelievable experience of my life,” which was followed by “WHY THE CRAP DO BOBSLEDDERS SUBMIT THEMSELVES TO THAT INSANITY DAY IN AND DAY OUT?”

And then all thoughts were overcome by severe throbbing. Dazed, we posed with our cutie pie pilot Jake.


See my smile? I did not mean it.

When I woke up the next morning, I had a severe case of whiplash and could not move my neck and shoulders. The blood vessel in my right eye had burst and I looked like I got my butt kicked by the neighborhood bully.

Which, in reality, I kind of did.

His name is Bob.

It's Like Learning How to Not Kill Your Child as She Learns to Ride a Bike

On Wednesday, I posted the following on Twitter:

Off to bang my head against the wall a.k.a. once again attempt to teach 5-yr-old Hadley to ride her bike.

I was only kind of joking. My husband Jamie and I tried to teach her last summer but to no avail. To be fair, it was a half-hearted attempt and we kept giving up out of frustration.

Last week, I decided this is The Summer of No Return.

All of her friends can ride on two wheels. In fact, many who are her same age have been doing it for a couple of years. I jokingly call one of our neighborhood families "athletic freaks of nature" because their boys were careening down the block at age 2.

Of course, they also couldn't stop and could be heard howling "HELLLLLLLLP!"

With an emphasis on the first few letters.

I don't remember learning to ride my bike. I guess I always assumed when I taught my children, it would be a bonding experience. In all my infinite bike wisdom, I would instruct them accordingly, then run along behind them as I guided their path. After a few failed attempts, I would release them and they would soar away as I sang out, "Fly little bird, fly!"

Instead, my experience has been "YOU'RE BEING ABSURD. YOU WON'T DIE!"

My daughter Hadley is athletic and normally fearless. She brazenly confronts most situations but learning to ride a bike is not one of them. Already at 5 years old, our relationship is a complicated one. We're a lot alike--both the good and bad. She's a spirited firecracker like me but also shares my lack of patience. It's only a matter of time before one of us will eventually melt down.

With Bike Riding 101, we both did.

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