Penny was a world champion in skiing at the age of sixteen only to have political heartbreak in the following Olympics. This affected every area of her life causing failure, loss, disappointment, heartache, shame and guilt caused by wrong choices. It also provided an opportunity for victory, freedom, healing and purpose. It was up to her to choose. She is now a grandmother and an owner of her family business, (Mammoth Mountain Ski Area). She finds herself as any other person with moment by moment choices. She doesn't have any earthly acclaim as an author. She is the pen of a ready writer and the vessel authoring life, freedom and healing for The Spirit of God the true author.
No one felt safe communicating with me for fear of suffering the wrath of politics.
The big day came: the 1968 Olympic Opening Ceremony. The opening ceremonies were monumental in stature. All competitors could partake in them being a winner in their own right. I had my beautiful red wool Olympic Team coat. It had a varnished black fur collar with the prestigious U.S.A. Olympic Team patch sewn on the front of it. What was I to do with this coat? I wasn’t invited to march in the ceremony, but my coat beckoned. The coach gave me credentials to get into the ceremony, but they weren’t credentials enough to wear my beautiful new Olympic Team coat.
I arrived at the stadium not knowing how I got there. I guess I took a taxi. My head was dizzy with the intense longing of wanting to be a part of the team but clearly recognizing I was the outcast. My eyes bulged out of their sockets with the mounting pressure of yearning to be a part of this exalted position. I sheepishly walked to the entrance of the stadium finding the proper entrance for my pass. The spectators moved in ahead of me one by one. I watched as they entered until it was finally my time. The doorkeeper looked at my credentials and told me I couldn’t get into the stadium with them because they were the wrong credentials. Can you imagine how I felt?
It was a rainy day. Mud covered the floor inside and outside the stadium. The mud and rain mirrored my life. I looked around finding a place to crawl under the bleachers in order to get into the stands. I proceeded to crawl under surfacing like Orphan Annie. Mud spattered my clothing. The rain washed away some of the outward appearance of my tear stained face. I remember seeing the competitors from each country as they marched onto the field that day. The U.S. teams marched onto the field in their proper order. I wasn’t there. I was cheated, or was I? Later years would answer this question.
Two short years earlier the world found a "Pretty Penny." This day I was lost and had digressed to the "Ugly Duckling." I was this ugly duckling before the whole testifying world. I didn’t realize how this would follow me through life permeating every area, crippling me with fears and insecurities. It made me vulnerable to emotional decisions rather than sound God based and breathed plans. I would not win my Olympic gold in ski racing.
This truth set me free in some strange way. I had nothing to live up to. I had no race-day pressure. I seemingly did not attract any recognizable notice until I walked out of my tiny little hobbit hotel room the following day. Reporters like a beehive to honey bees surrounded me. I tried to ignore it feeling somewhat like I did in Schrunz, Austria, escaping the autograph hounds. I really had nothing to say at this point. What could I?
I realized vengeance and spite were not the tools for life. There was no power in bitter unforgiveness. There was no lasting value to holding a grudge. There was no integrity in hate or anger. Those things were all wasted energy. What was decided was decided. What was done was done.
