“Toad” continues hopping toward Junior Worlds

By Chase Edwards
Sun staff writer
My sister, Cassidy, was given the nickname Toad as a toddler. My parents say it’s because she never stopped hopping around. She even signed her papers as Toad Edwards during elementary and middle school. That was until one of the teachers told her it wasn’t appropriate.

Toad took home a gold medal this year at the Cross-Country Skiing Junior Olympics in Fairbanks, Alaska. She called me from Alaska to tell me two things. She said that one of the races was almost canceled because of the temperature: it was 20 degrees below zero and the girls were instructed to duct tape their sports bras (which they turned into a party). Then she told me about one of the top college coaches in the country standing at the crest of a hill in the middle of the race yelling, “Damn it Toad! you’re two seconds away from three of the fastest college skiers in the country. You’ve got it…now let’s go!” This meant she was in the lead in her age group. I learned later that she grinned at him, and then picked up the pace.
Years before Toad’s cross-country skiing days my dad used take the two of us to track and cross-country running races all over the country. We raced in Mississippi, Tennessee, Virginia, the Carolinas and Georgia. We even took the Greyhound bus to Orlando, Florida once. But one AAU junior national indoor track meet in Indiana stands out in my mind. Toad was 9.
I trained hard with Dad during the months before this particular meet. We always asked Toad if she was going to join us, but a nonchalant “nah” was her usual reply. She would then hop out the door, without the slightest bit of guilt, to play dress up or go ice-skating with her friends. I think Cass ran once a week, if that, prior to the meet. I remember Dad telling her before the race that she really didn’t deserve to be there. Toad laughed and bounced off to the starting line. She won her race and broke the meet record.
Four years later Dad bought us our first waxable cross-country skis and Toad started taking her training seriously. The plan was to use cross-country ski racing as a form of crosstraining, to make us stronger runners. But we soon fell in love with skiing and it became our favorite sport. We were pretty good for the area, too.
After one full year of cross-country ski racing we qualified for the Junior Olympics (2000) in New Hampshire. This meant we would compete in four events: a relay, a sprint, a distance race with skate technique, and a distance race using classic technique. Toad came in dead last in the classic race.
The following year Junior Olympics were held in Marquette, Michigan. Toad placed in the top ten. This was the third time she’d made All-American in a sport (the first two were in track and cross-country). Dad decided to buy us roller-skis after that and we began training for the ski season year round.
Cassidy beat me at the state meet the next winter. Then we went to Idaho for Junior Olympics (2002) and Toad crashed on a steep downhill during the classic race. Her ski boot, with the ski still attached, came off her foot. She put the boot back on and finished in 11th place. She took 5th in the skate race.
Although Toad’s 11th-place finish in Idaho made a good story, no one in the ski world expected her to take home the gold medal from Alaska in 2003 like she did. No one except Dad and I, anyways. She is the first skier from Michigan to win a gold at the Junior Olympics.
At age 16 Cassidy has her eye on qualifying for Junior Worlds next ski season. She is currently roller-skiing 50-60 miles a week and running 20-30 miles a week. She does this all on her own without the support of a team or even a formal coach. So if you see her training in Glen Arbor this summer wave or yell “hey” to her. She’ll be working hard, but I guarantee she’ll pause long enough to give you her famous Toad smile and say “hey” back.
Toad and I don’t work out together as much as we used to, but she’s still my best friend. When my friends and I ask her to join us at the beach or bonfire or to watch a movie, however, she will sometimes reply with a nonchalant “nah.” Then we watch as she hops out the door to go train.