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.

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.“

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.“

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.

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.“

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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