“Does Being Around the Snow Make You Sad?”
Spoiler: It doesn’t.
It’s one of the questions I get asked more than any other.
Well, that, and “Are you back on snow yet?”
And of course, the other one that takes the top prize:
“How’s the knee?”
(Which, by the way, is so dehumanising even though it is not meant to be)
We need to start asking how people are, not how their injured body parts are doing. But that’s a rant for another time…
Look, I get why people ask, and it comes from a place of care and love.
I’ve spent most of my life on skis.
Winter used to mean early mornings, gate training, race suits, and pushing limits. This year, it means spreadsheets, radios, kids’ gloves, and before-and-after work ACL rehab. No start list. No gates. No racing.
From the outside, it probably looks like I’m surrounded by everything I love but can’t touch. The truth is different.
Being here doesn’t make me sad. It makes me sure.
I’m a skier, but I’m also Sammie.
This season has reminded me that I’m more than one thing.
Even without skis on my feet, I belong.
I can still add value. I can still grow, learn, and show up in different ways.
I grew up in the snow industry.
My family has been part of it for generations.
I was raised in this environment as a racer, an instructor, and the daughter of a ski guide and snow business owner.
I’ve seen all sides of this world. It’s not just where I perform.
It’s where I feel most at home.
Skiing will always be a big part of my life.
But it’s not all of who I am.
I’m Sammie.
Someone who loves early mornings and mountain air.
Someone who cares deeply and puts everything into what I do.
Someone who wants to come back not just strong, but clear in my intentions and vision.
Skiing has shaped so much of my life.
It’s how I connect with my dad.
It’s how I’ve set my goals, built friendships, and found purpose.
But recovery has shown me that meaning doesn’t disappear when you’re injured.
This winter, I’ve been working full-time with Thredbo’s children’s snowsports programs. It’s fast-paced, people-focused, and rewarding.
I’ve also shared my story through mental fitness programs with the AIS and Black Dog Institute.
Injury brings challenges people don’t always see.
The fatigue. The slow days when progress feels invisible.
The mental effort to keep showing up when the path is long.
This isn’t my first setback. Coming back from multiple concussions during my first FIS season was hard. But this time, I’m approaching recovery with way more patience, more professionalism and maturity, and more trust in the process.
I have a strong team behind me. And I have inner confidence that doesn’t come from anyone else. It comes from preparation and showing up consistently, even on the hard days.
Identity isn’t built by what you achieve once.
It’s built by what you return to over and over again.
I’ve learned you can miss skiing and still enjoy your day.
You can be tired and still be proud.
You can want to be back, and still be okay with where you are.
What this rehab has taught me is that many things can be true at once.
I’m an athlete, but I’m not defined by results.
I love skiing, but I can still grow in other areas without it detracting from my goals or love for the sport.
I’ve stepped away from competition while I’m injured, but I’ve stepped into new strengths.
My identity doesn’t come from what I do. It comes from who I am when things are hard.
I want to represent Australia on the world stage again.
And I know I will, because I’m doing the work and building belief through action, day after day.
But I’m not grasping at it.
I’m holding it firmly but lightly, like a bird in your hands.
Tight enough so it doesn’t fly away.
Loose enough so it doesn’t break.
That, to me, is progress.
And no, I’m not sad being in the snow.
I’m more motivated than ever.
As for the other question, I’ll be back on snow when my body is ready.
If everything tracks well, I may be able to start doing drills on chill terrain and snow toward the end of the southern season.
But I won’t return to gates until I’ve passed rigorous strength and movement testing and feel confident and strong.
That timeline puts me back into gate training post nine months, which is still a little while down the track.
For now, I’m doing exactly what I need to.
And I’m right where I need to be.
Just… maybe pleaaasseeeeee don’t ask me how my knee is going ;)
It’s probably going better than it was.
But more importantly, so am I — through this slow & steady rehab process full of unexpected wisdom.
Thanks for reading,
Sammie
