The Secret Weapon Is Fun: Inside Kristen Bourne’s Collaborative Coaching on the U.S. Ski Team

When we spoke, Kristen Bourne was sitting on the couch in her living room in Truckee, California, a small ski town she now calls home. Tibetan prayer flags hung loosely behind her, shifting gently in the morning light that poured through the window. The room felt warm and calm — the kind of quiet space that comes from someone who spends much of her year on the move. Bourne smiled easily as she spoke, her voice’s cadence unhurried, like someone grounded in both her work and the mountain rhythm around her.

She had just returned from camp and was preparing to leave again this weekend to start the World Cup with the U.S. Ski Team. Between talk of travel logistics and packing lists, she mentioned the soundtrack that keeps her company on solo skis. “When I’m skiing by myself? Yes,” she said, grinning. “I really like skiing to Machine Gun Kelly… it kind of brings me back to the Blink-182, Sum 41 days. It feels almost like nostalgic, but newer age.”

That small confession says a lot about Bourne, now in her fourth season on the U.S. Cross-Country Ski Team coaching staff: rooted in rhythm, grounded in joy, and always blending the familiar with the fresh.

Joy, she’ll tell you, isn’t a garnish. It’s the point.

“Happiness goes such a long way in professional sport… our secret weapon as a team is having fun. Our staff genuinely enjoys being together. The athletes genuinely enjoy being together. We love to all come together.”

The proof, for her, is a memory from the day Jessie Diggins won the 10 K at the World Championships in Planica. The scene isn’t what the public imagines. “You’d think everybody is stressed,” Bourne said. “We were ahead of schedule, and we all just sat down in [our wax truck], Yolanda, and made instruments out of whatever we could find for, like, 30 minutes.” The room filled with improvised drums and laughter. “It was so fun,” she said. “That’s the stuff people never see.”

Minnesota Roots, and a Goal Cut in Half

Bourne grew up just outside the Twin Cities, where endurance sport was a family language. “Our family vacations were going to [my dad’s] marathons and triathlons,” she said. She started by hopping into a mile here and there, handing him nutrition at the end of the driveway, learning the cadence and care that go into long efforts.

Skiing arrived as a nudge. A new high-school coach was recruiting runners to cross-country ski at Mounds Park Academy. The first season was rough: “I swore I was going to quit. Every single race I did, I cried after most races,” she said. In a 5k, Jessie Diggins (then a rival in the same section) beat her by 12 minutes. Bourne’s response was characteristic—specific, measurable, gritty: next year, get that down to six.

She continued to run and ski through high school, then headed to Northern Michigan University after spending a semester at the University of Colorado. She transferred mid-winter 2014 and skied at NMU through 2018, working under a rotation of assistants. Her path after graduation would tilt everything she thought she knew about training.

Norway: Where Individual Plans Meet Shared Trails

Right out of college, Bourne moved to Norway for a year and a half. She intended to ski; illnesses complicated the plan. But a concurrent internship at the Norwegian School of Sports Science opened doors into a different coaching world. Back home, she was used to “show up and the coach tells you the workout and everybody does the same thing.” In Norway, she said, “you sit down with a coach and you generate your plan… It was the first time I was exposed to individual planning—thinking about what’s best for you, not necessarily the team.”

Interval days there could look like organized chaos: “Every single person… almost had a different workout, but people would sync up where they could.” At first, she struggled; she missed the mob grind. Then she looked around at a culture of success and realized what was happening: athletes were learning their bodies early, practicing agency. The lesson stuck. “Team workouts are also the way to go,” she said, “but giving athletes a platform to think for themselves—creating this athlete-coach collaborative experience versus coach telling athlete, ‘this is what you should do’—had a tremendous impact” on how she now works.

The Parking-Lot Pivot

Her return to the U.S. was abrupt. She lost her residence permit—”turns out it was under the seat of my roommate’s dad’s car”—and flew home with two days’ notice, arriving just as COVID was beginning to ripple into sport. She kept racing a little, then decided she was done.

That’s when a well-timed email—and a parking-lot shout—changed everything. Her dad reached out to Maria Stuber, who was building the Women’s Ski Coaches Association. “Maria found me in a parking lot at U.S. Nationals and yelled out her window, ‘I’m going to call you,‘” Bourne remembered. A call later, Maria offered her a position at the College of St. Scholastica and connected her with Pepa Miloucheva at the Craftsbury Green Racing Project. After two school years at Scholastica, with summers in Craftsbury, Bourne joined the U.S. Ski Team staff.

The transition was, by her own admission, intimidating. “It was this idea of, like, how am I here?“ she said. But Norway’s reminder—that fresh eyes are valuable—kept her steady. “Just because you’re newer and have less experience doesn’t mean your ideas aren’t valid,“ she said. “You’re maybe fresher out of a ski career, you relate with athletes in a different way. There’s a lot of value in that.”

She also learned to de-personalize the miss. “Technique feedback doesn’t always stick. That’s not a reflection of me as a coach or the athlete,“ she said. “We tried that idea; it’s fine. We’ll try something else.“ Each year, she felt more confident; more importantly, she built deeper connections.

Julia Kern—one of the athletes Bourne works with most closely—sees that same quality every day.

“Kristen is unique in the sense that she’s able to connect with just about any personality type on the team,“ Kern said. “One of her strengths is figuring out how to connect differently with different athletes. Every athlete responds differently and has different needs, and she just gets that. She’s very approachable and sees athletes as whole people.”

Mentors and a Collaboration-First Culture

Ask Bourne about mentors and the names tumble out: Matt Whitcomb, Chris Grover, Jason Cork. “From the very beginning… incredibly supportive,“ she said. “Matt will answer his phone every time. He usually likes to FaceTime… we brainstorm ideas.“ The flow goes both ways: she calls when the connection is hard; he calls when he’s stuck on something.

Her women’s network is just as active. “Maria Stuber, hands down,“ Bourne said. “And Sam Benzing at Montana State—we coached together at Scholastica. She’s younger, but her perspective is so interesting.“ Group FaceTimes are common: Maria, Sam, Kristen, swapping angles and problem-solving. It’s not just helpful; it’s survival. “It would be really hard to be in this job and not have that,“ Bourne said. “The collaboration makes it so much more sustainable.”

That same approach underpins her work with athletes like Kern.

“Kristen’s helped me figure out what kind of training plan works well for me,“ Kern said. “We’ve tried some new things the last few years—different kinds of workouts, always thinking creatively. She’s open-minded, reads up on what other athletes are doing, but also thinks for herself. She’s got such a growth mindset.”

Coaching Women, Coaching Men — and Being Seen

On the World Cup, visibility is progress measured in inches. FIS’s women-coach bibs created access (up to two additional bibs if teams have women on staff), but change is slow. “Every year, maybe there’s one or two new women… it definitely hasn’t blown up,“ Bourne said. Old assumptions linger. “I probably get asked a couple times a year from male coaches: ‘Are you the massage therapist or PT?’“

For Kern, Bourne’s presence is more than symbolic.

“It’s huge,“ Kern said. “She’s one of the few female coaches on the World Cup level, and she’s down to work hard and just have fun with it too. I hope the next generation of women who want to coach feel inspired that they can do it too. Kristen’s paving the way, even in ways people might not see from the surface.”

Bourne herself agrees that visibility matters. “You can’t be it if you can’t see it,“ she said. “It’s important for young men, too, to see women in leadership roles. Our men’s team has been incredible—they’ve never made me feel like I don’t belong.”

Her advice to aspiring women coaches is emphatic: build a robust support community. “Ask for advice,“ she said. “It makes a world of difference.”

Athlete Work: Julia Every Other Day, Gus and Sophia on the Radar

Bourne’s primary day-to-day is Kern. “We’re talking basically every other day—texting or on the phone, training planning. We work very closely, very in depth,“ she said. She also monitors Gus Schumacher and Sophia Laukli.

Kern said that beyond the workouts, Bourne has shaped the team culture itself.

“She’s really good at encouraging athletes to bring their own sense of leadership,“ Kern said. “Not everyone is going to be outspoken—some are quiet leaders, some lead through training. She empowers people to be leaders in their own way. She creates a team atmosphere that’s a judgment-free zone. No idea is a bad idea.”

Season Outlook: Keep the Vibe, Chase the Team Moments

Last year’s long illnesses made for uneasy preseason reading. This year feels different. “People are in a pretty good place,“ Bourne said. “At our camp in Utah, I would assume there would be a little more stress—it’s an Olympic year. Not at all. People were so relaxed and chill and vibing and doing their thing.”

If there’s a metric she’d choose for success, it’s carrying that “happy momentum“ through everything—the Olympics, Lake Placid World Cup Finals. “In a year with so many eyes on cross-country skiing, that would be massive,“ she said.

Results still matter, of course. And she lights up talking about the collective ones. “It would be so awesome to see success in team events,“ she said. “Relay and the sprint relay—those mean so much when it’s a collective team event. We want to do well there.”

Representation, Purpose, and the Long Run

There’s a moment near the end of our conversation when Bourne zooms out to the why. “We are very deeply intertwined in another person’s process and journey,“ she said. “What an absolute privilege to be part of that. It’s impossible not to come to absolutely love and care so much about these people.”

Kern echoed that sentiment from the athlete side.

“Kristen understands there’s life outside of skiing,“ Kern said. “She also knows what it takes to be one of the best in the world—and when it’s time to step away. She helps us stay grounded.”

Five years from now, Bourne hopes she’s doing exactly this, just deeper—”coaching, getting to know these athletes more and more.”

And she hopes the picture around her looks different: more women coaches on staff, on other staffs, in other sports at U.S. Ski & Snowboard; more women wax techs. “If I can have a tiny ounce of contribution into changing that,“ she said, “I’d be so, so happy.”

Purpose, Rhythm, and Joy

As our conversation wound down, Bourne slightly rotated her position as the light spilling through the window shifted—yet still filtering across the prayer flags behind her. She laughed when she mentioned her must-pack item: heated socks for Finland. “I get cold fast,“ she said. “Those are my best friend.“

There’s rhythm in that, too: warmth, joy, and purpose, all braided into one.

Because for Kristen Bourne—and for the athletes who work with her—the secret weapon really is fun.

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