Mikaela Shiffrin and Aleksander Aamodt Kilde talk about why they are “open” about their relationship, what’s your opinion about their relationship?

GARMISCH-PARTENKIRCHEN, Germany — When two of alpine skiing’s biggest stars speak publicly about their private lives, fans and media listen — and sometimes squirm. At the heart of the latest conversation: Aleksander Aamodt Kilde and Mikaela Shiffrin, engaged since April 2024, and their decision to be candid, even “open,” about their partnership. In a recent interview, Kilde spoke about what that openness means, why it matters, and how the two balance high-stakes competition with emotional honesty.

A union of champions — public and private

Mikaela Shiffrin and Aleksander Kilde are no ordinary couple in the skiing world. Shiffrin, from the United States, is widely considered one of the greatest alpine skiers ever. Over the years, she has collected multiple Olympic gold medals, world titles, and dozens of World Cup wins. Kilde, from Norway, is himself a force in speed disciplines—downhill, super-G—with multiple World Cup victories to his name and a reputation for power and precision on steep terrain.

The two confirmed their relationship publicly in May 2021, after building a quiet rapport behind the scenes. (ComingSoon) Their engagement in April 2024 made headlines across the sports globe, partly because it paired two elite athletes whose paths converge rarely but meaningfully. (AP News) Since then, their shared story has blended athletic ambition, mutual support, and the challenge of maintaining authenticity under the public eye.

“Open” — what does Kilde mean?

In an interview conducted earlier this summer, Kilde used the term “open” to describe how he and Shiffrin approach their relationship publicly. That word carries nuance: it is not a claim that their private life is constantly on display, but rather that they seek transparency about who they are as partners, athletes, and individuals.

Kilde said, in essence, that openness for them means:

• Emotional vulnerability — being willing to talk about challenges, setbacks, mental health, pressures on and off the snow.
• Mutual respect in public — offering support, celebrating one another’s achievements, and confronting adversity together, even when the media spotlight is eager.
• Boundaries with privacy — acknowledging that not everything must be shared, and that certain corners remain private for their relationship to thrive.

Kilde emphasized that being open is a choice — a deliberate effort to prevent speculation, misinterpretation, or the creation of false narratives by others. By speaking about their relationship on their own terms, they hope to retain agency over their story.

Why openness matters — for them and their sport

1. Combating rumors and speculation. When high-profile athletes stay silent, rumors often fill the vacuum. Kilde argued that by being transparent about their bond, they reduce the chance that outsiders twist their actions or misread their motives.

2. Role modeling authenticity. Both Shiffrin and Kilde carry tremendous influence—fan bases, young athletes, and media attention. Their openness sends a message that it is okay for elite competitors to express relational complexity, emotional strain, and humanity.

3. Emotional balance in a pressured profession. The life of a professional skier entails constant travel, injury risk, mental exhaustion, and the burden of public expectation. Kilde remarked (in paraphrase) that having a partner who “gets it” helps anchor him — and that sharing his emotional life openly helps relieve isolation.

4. Negotiating dual careers. Since both are top-tier skiers, their paths often diverge (different circuits, events, injuries). Being open about their support, and their challenges in synchronizing schedules and priorities, invites empathy from fans who may otherwise assume one side sacrifices too much.

Challenges and critiques

Not everyone applauds public openness, even from beloved athletes. Several concerns and criticisms echo across social media and commentary circles.

Privacy loss. To be open is to expose parts of personal life to scrutiny. Some fans and critics wonder if openness invites unwelcome intimation, speculation, or misinterpretation — especially in the charged landscape of celebrity. How much is too much?

Media fatigue and narrative framing. There is risk that openness becomes a performance — that public statements are parsed, weaponized, or co-opted into storylines beyond the couple’s control. Every shared quote may overshadow the athletic narrative.

Uneven expectations. In relationships where one partner is much more famous or media-savvy, pressure may fall asymmetrically. Some commentators have asked: does Shiffrin bear more of the public emotional labor, or is Kilde equally visible?

Impact on performance. Though less common, some voices caution that relational transparency can become a distraction on competition days. In sports, focus is often paramount — and personal matters, when magnified, may intrude.

Voices from both sides

Mikaela Shiffrin herself has spoken in interviews about how the pair “share each other’s successes,” and how having someone who understands the demands of elite skiing means less need to explain. In one conversation, she referred to “survival mode” during injury periods, and how they navigate that together.

Kilde, when asked about their engagement, once reflected: “We will probably settle on a date when life stabilizes; there’s no rush.” He also voiced that when Shiffrin suffered setbacks, he posted support not just as a romantic partner, but as someone who has witnessed her triumphs and trials.

Media commentators have mostly praised the way the couple balances competitive identities with personal presence. Some columnists see their transparency as a refreshing shift from the usual guarded public athlete persona. Others caution against romanticizing openness too much — arguing that not all couples thrive under constant public gaze.

The road ahead — Olympics, distance, and maintaining balance

Looking to the future, the couple’s plans also reflect their trademark candor. For the 2026 Winter Olympics, Shiffrin noted that the men’s and women’s skiing events will be held at different venues, making it unlikely they can be physically together during the Games. That separation, she said, is “something we’re very used to,” as they have often cheered from afar during competition seasons.

The couple also continues to face physical adversity: Kilde’s season was halted by a serious crash in January 2024, and his subsequent recovery — including surgery and infection — has drawn both public worry and private determination. Shiffrin, too, has endured injuries and returns to the slopes with high expectations and public gaze watching each move.

In that context, openness can serve as both shield and scaffold: a way to frame adversity not as hidden shame but as shared human experience.

Conclusion: openness as an evolving contract

In the world of elite sports, personal lives are rarely private. What makes Kilde and Shiffrin’s approach notable is their willingness to define terms of transparency themselves. They neither surrender to the merciless rumor mill, nor hide behind opaque silence. They propose an evolving contract—with fans, media, and themselves—in which relational truth is neither performance nor confessional exhibition, but a considered choice.

There will doubtless be missteps. There may be moments they wish they had kept quiet. But for now, their openness is a deliberate stance: that being high-performance athletes and real, emotionally invested human beings can and should co-exist. They are still writing their story — and choosing, as best as they can, to write it together.

At Home With the Shiffrins

Mikaela’s mother reflects on the things she learnt while raising the greatest ski racer of all time.

Just before 4 p.m. on an August afternoon in Edwards, Eileen Shiffrin is seated in her living room, immersed in detailing the painstaking process of raising the world’s best ski racer—when, unexpectedly, the world’s best ski racer bursts through the door. “Mikaela, come say hello! ” She rants at her 26-year-old daughter, who lives with her. Mikaela says a quick hello as she scurries inside, apologising for having to leave again because a friend and neighbour (LEKI rep Charlie Webb) is trying to custom fit her shin guards in preparation for the coming winter. Mikaela is still over three months away from her first World Cup race and six months from the 2022 Olympic Winter Games in Beijing, but she is already feeling the crush—and rush—of expectations. Mom gives a knowing look before returning to her story.

Eileen has told several of these stories several times previously. Others, she is still unsure how to tell. This will be her second season as a single mom after her 34-year-old husband, Jeff, a Vail Health anaesthesiologist, died unexpectedly in February 2020. She enjoys reflecting on how she and Jeff raised Mikaela and her brother, Taylor, who is two and a half years older. Mikaela’s success as an Olympic champion was not unintended, but it was also not their goal.

“We just had so much fun skiing with them,” she explains simply. “However, others are constantly attempting to model their programs after how we achieved it. Stop right there! Parents should relax and enjoy the process when their children are young, regardless of the sport.”

Eileen Shiffrin at home in Edwards
Image: Brent Bingham

Jeff’s moustachioed countenance, which has been missing for more than a year, is reflected in framed images found in nearly every room of the exquisitely furnished, five-bedroom mountain modern home the Shiffrins built to replace their long-time family compound in nearby Eagle-Vail, where Mikaela and Taylor were raised. Eileen is proud that Mikaela created the bronze fireplace, and that several of her crystal globes are on exhibit downstairs, lighted and placed on a stacked-stone-wall trophy case. The three of them moved in during the summer of 2019, eight months before Jeff passed away. Eileen says adjusting to Jeff’s loss “was like getting a torpedo in the head and gut, over and over, for months on end.” They don’t often talk about the anguish they felt—and still experience. “We immediately realised that everyone has their own crosses to carry, and they are not the burdens of others; they are our own. “You learn to suffer in silence,” she admits.

Despite their pain and the way it has impacted their lives, the Olympics call. For Mikaela, the Beijing Games are her third and possibly best chance to maximise her talent on the sport’s most illustrious stage—which would entail winning multiple gold medals after winning one in each of her previous two Games. Shiffrin, who is likely to participate in up to five disciplines, all of which she has previously won on the World Cup, will once again be the face of the US delegation. Eileen, who has been by her daughter’s side on the slopes since Mikaela was in kindergarten, will play the same role as before, but Jeff will not. Win or lose, this usually secluded family will embark on a pivotal journey in front of the world’s eyes.

Three weeks before her father died, Mikaela Shiffrin was on pace to win her fourth straight World Cup overall title at the Audi FIS Alpine Ski World Cup in Flachau, Austria, on January 14, 2020.
Image: Max Hall/U.S. Ski Team

To comprehend the hole left by Jeff’s death—the result of a head injury experienced in a fall—and why his absence had such a significant impact on his daughter’s ski racing career, consider the beginning of Team Shiffrin. In the summer of 1985, Jeff and Eileen worked at St. Elizabeth’s Medical Centre in Brighton, Massachusetts. He, a 31-year-old rising-star physician, was completing his cardiothoracic rotation; she, a 25-year-old ICU nurse, described him as “brilliant, jovial, and curious, with a solution to every problem.”

Eileen had skiing in her blood. Every autumn, her parents brought her and her three siblings up to Mt. Greylock, a pasture with two rope tows. They used sickles to clear the meadow grass and prepare the slope for snowfall. Eileen skied with secondhand gear and wore jeans, leather boots, and a black trash bag when it rained. She planned to race in college, but gave it up when she started nursing school. Jeff, a former FIS racer from Dover, New Jersey, invited her on a date to Killington and persuaded her to give it another shot. They had their first vacation as a couple in Aspen, which is one of the reasons Eileen has always expressed “a fondness and nostalgia” for the place. “If it wasn’t for Jeff, I wouldn’t have kept skiing,” she says. “He brought back my love of the sport.”

They married in 1986 and relocated to Vail five years later, each working at the Vail Valley Medical Centre. Taylor was born in 1992, and Mikaela arrived in 1995. Jeff and Eileen taught their children to ski and schooled them on family outings to Vail for years before enrolling them in what was then Ski Club Vail at the age of 9 and 7.

The Shiffrin family at home in Vail in 1999.
Image: Courtesy Eileen Shiffrin

The Shiffrin children made significant development under the direction of SCV’s Rika Moore, who guided a curriculum devised by the club’s Deb Flanders. Mikaela learnt to clear slalom gates before most coaches would let their pupils try. Jeff’s profession and familial ties eventually led them back to New England, where the children settled at Burke Mountain Academy in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. Even after their family moved back to Vail in 2009, Mikaela returned to Burke, and Eileen accompanied her, homeschooling Mikaela in a leased condo and watching her training.

Mikaela was developing faster, and her parents worked hard to keep her grounded. They prevented her from studying the scoreboard following her victories, which included sweeping the famous Topolino races in Italy when she was 14. She was not permitted to celebrate. “It’s rude and inconsiderate,” they’d say, not to mention a waste of time. Jeff’s cardinal rule: “Be nice.” Think first. Mikaela had them put on a sticker and affixed to the back of her helmet after he passed away. Every day, he advised his children to “enjoy the process,” emphasising the process above the outcome. When Eileen and Jeff discussed skiing with Taylor and Mikaela, they formed their own language. “Knees to skis, take it deep,” they’d say. Or simply, “Swallow!” “—an SCV drill based on the bird’s wings tipping side to side during flight.”

Eileen was constantly monitoring their effort and performance. She wasn’t a whip cracker, but she knew what her children were capable of. If she felt they were falling short, she simply told them that it was always up to them to put in the effort necessary to realise their full potential. “That was all that was required,” says Taylor, who won two NCAA team championships with the University of Denver.

Mother and daughter time
Image: Brent Bingham

In March 2011, Mikaela’s first year in high school, the U.S. Ski Team selected a prize winner for a pair of World Cup tech events at Spindleruv Mlyn, Czech Republic. Eileen would soon become Mikaela’s full-time travel companion, but Jeff joined her on this trip and handled every detail. She finished 32nd in slalom, almost missing a second run.

The trip demonstrated what it takes to compete at the highest level, but they also shared beautiful moments as father and daughter, wandering through Prague and analysing video together. “I can’t imagine what it would have been like if he wasn’t there,” Mikaela tells me.

Mikaela went on to win the US national slalom title that spring, at the age of 16, and qualified for a full season on the World Cup. A few months later, she and her parents sat on their couch in Eagle-Vail, discussing how it might work. Mikaela and Eileen had already been studying video together every day, whether by phone or in person, and they were basically best friends. Given his responsibilities as a physician and associate professor at the University of Colorado, Jeff knew the only logical plan for their family was for Eileen to accompany Mikaela to Europe while he handled logistics from Vail, booking flights, lodging, and rental cars and removing distractions so they could focus on skiing. Mikaela began to call him “the Schedulizer.”

Eileen, who quit nursing after having Taylor, helped Mikaela with her schooling on the circuit. Jeff spent all of his PTO visiting them with Taylor, who raced on the NorAm Tour in addition to his time at DU. The family pondered moving to Europe to live together (Jeff even sought for work), but they loved Vail too much to leave.

People think we’re crazy because we’re so secretive, but our lifestyle is exhausting. So when we had the opportunity, we wanted to be together.

The highlight of their year was a two-month summer reunion. “We have always loved being together,” Eileen recalls from her living room. “We didn’t care if our children weren’t part of the group. We are the family that enjoys playing Rummikub. We do not feel obligated to go out on the town. We never felt the need to go downtown and show Mikaela off, especially since she’s [renowned]. People think we’re crazy because we’re so secretive, but our lifestyle is exhausting. So when we had the opportunity, we wanted to be together.”

As Mikaela’s career progressed and her World Cup victories piled up, the Shiffrins invited a small group of friends to join them for celebratory dinners at the conclusion of each winter. They’d toast a good season, safe return home, and enjoyment of the process. They never celebrated her individual achievements.

Team Shiffrin at the 2017 World Cup Finals in Aspen; after a second-place slalom finish, 22-year-old Mikaela became the youngest ski racer to win the overall World Cup title since 2003.
Image: Ryan Mooney/U.S. Ski & Snowboard

Parents rarely coach full-time for the World Cup, and when they do, fathers are more likely to maintain the position. (The mother of Slovenian racer Ilka Stuhec is the only mother who plays a role similar to Eileen’s.) During interviews, Eileen deflects credit, giving Mikaela’s two U.S. Mike Day and Jeff Lackie, the ski team coaches, work primarily with her. But those who know Eileen and understand the sport characterise her as a ski racing student in the same way that Billy Beane is a baseball student: fascinated with the obscure, always looking for the smallest advantage. She watches every racer in the field and has a keen sense of technique and speed, particularly what makes a ski racer fast. In the 1990s, she won two national titles as a masters racer and spent years competing in the local beer league, picking the brains of fellow enthusiasts on a daily basis. Though she keeps her basic coach’s licence from the United States. Eileen Shiffrin, of the Ski and Snowboard Association, is a natural sage rather than a professional examiner. This also applies to her function as motivator.

“I’ve always said Mikaela knows her body and herself better than anyone else, except maybe her mum,” adds Lackie, a former Canadian national team coach who specialises in speed disciplines. “Eileen does not coddle Mikaela, but she protects her. It sounds contradictory, yet it is not. Creating a sense of urgency and pushing her whenever she notices Mikaela becoming complacent is a distinguishing characteristic.”

Eileen does not coddle Mikaela, yet she protects her. It sounds contradictory, yet it is not. Creating a sense of urgency and pushing Mikaela anytime she detects complacency is a distinguishing feature.

“Mikaela needs Mom more than anyone,” says Taylor, 29, a data scientist and entrepreneur from Denver. “Why is it the case? Dad and I have several theories. We never talked much about it, but we knew Mom had to be there.

Despite Team Shiffrin’s success, Eileen always wanted to go back to nursing. So, in 2015, shortly after Mikaela turned 20, they decided to test a new system. Mikaela would “spread her wings and take off,” as Eileen puts it, while Eileen would retire from coaching to pursue her chosen job. Mikaela’s first World Cup race without her parents was at Åre, Sweden, in early December. Eileen sat down to watch from her mother’s house in Massachusetts at 4 a.m., when the SMS barrage started. Mikaela’s eyes were watering and hazy from an allergic reaction to poor cosmetics when she crashed while warming up in windblown snow, tearing her MCL. “I almost threw up when I found out,” Eileen admits, recoiling from the memories. Mikaela missed a significant portion of the season. She still believes she wouldn’t have crashed if her mother had been around to tell her to be cautious on the uneven terrain.

Eileen rejoined her daughter on tour once Mikaela returned to competition, and they decided to abandon the retirement plan. For the next four years, the technique delivered impressive results, including Mikaela’s breakout 2017 season, when she won her first overall title at the World Cup Finals in Aspen. Then in October 2019, Eileen’s mother, Mikaela’s “Nana” and biggest fan, passed away. Eileen and Jeff decided it might be time to try retirement again. Eileen leaned on Jeff while she mourned her loss at home. Mikaela’s skiing got worse across the Atlantic. She finished 17th in a race at Courchevel, France, in December, which was a shocking performance for the three-time defending overall World Cup winner.

Eileen returned to Europe, and Mikaela finished on the podium in seven of the next ten races, winning four. Her record came to an end on the notorious Bansko Speedway in Bulgaria in the last week of January 2020, with her father in attendance. “Bansko was the one place Jeff had always wanted to see Mikaela compete,” she adds.

Jeff saw his daughter win her first two speed races of the year, a downhill and a super-G, before finishing fourth in a second downhill. She was in good position to win her fourth consecutive overall title.

Following the Bansko races, Jeff spent a few days relaxing in Lake Garda, Italy, with Eileen and Mikaela. They had came to Lake Garda as a young family to windsurf 18 years ago, and Jeff and Eileen reminisced about their vacation while wandering around the lake. “We loved having him there,” Eileen recalls. When they said their goodbyes, they intended to see each other in five weeks.

Two days later, while training in Folgaria, Italy, Mikaela received a call from Taylor asking to speak with their mother, whom he had been unable to contact. Taylor informed Eileen that his father had collapsed and that she and Mikaela needed to return home immediately. They all got to be together again before Jeff died on February 2.

Mikaela Shiffrin training for the 2022 Winter Games with the U.S. Ski Team at Saas-Fee, Switzerland, in September
Image: Ryan Mooney/U.S. Ski & Snowboard

Mikaela returns home from her shinguard fitting just after 5 p.m. The Olympic winner sits on the couch, sipping orange seltzer and sporting red nail polish. She and her mother instantly begin recalling the chronological order of her early career. After a few minutes, Eileen rises from her chair and walks over to sit with her daughter on the couch. They’re both wearing white tank tops and share a striking resemblance—wavy blond hair, dazzling eyes, and movie-star smiles.

In a few weeks, the circus will relaunch in Saas-Fee, Switzerland, for training with the US. Ski Team, then home for Taylor’s September wedding at Piney Lake and a few preseason fundraisers, then to Austria for the season opener in early October, all leading up to China in February. The Olympics are a massive logistical question mark; according to information obtained by the Shiffrins from local coaches, there were only three days in February last year when alpine races could have been held due to high winds at the Olympic venue. This year, they plan to hold 11 races in two weeks.

Eileen frequently prepares her kid for a roller coaster ride, both literally and mentally. At the age when many of her friends are retiring, Eileen, 62, is as active as she has ever been. She’s still heartbroken. “We’re not over the grief,” she adds from the couch. “You don’t get over the grief,” she says, “but you get over a hump.”

“And you find a way to survive it,” Eileen explains. “Especially with a community like this. It helped a lot. People came out of the woodwork to offer, “Oh, your microwave is broken; don’t worry; we can help with that and this.”

Mikaela won two World Cup events and four medals at the World Championships last winter, including gold in combined, but her overall placing of third was disappointing for such a decorated champion. “She was finding her way back,” explains Day, who manages her technical program. “I think last year was survival to a certain extent.”

The last few years have reinforced my belief that I couldn’t finish my career without my mother’s presence.

Mikaela is now in better shape than she has ever been heading into a season. Taylor, who frequently visits Edwards, claims she buried him in the same test he used to bury her. This summer, she worked out alongside her boyfriend, Norway’s gigantic 2019 overall World Cup champion, Aleksander Aamodt Kilde. “It’s a significant change. “It doesn’t even feel like she’s the same athlete,” says Lackie, Shiffrin’s strength and conditioning coach. “But for sure, it took a full year before I could see the light return to her eyes.”

Someday, the Shiffrin women will retire from ski racing and focus on schussing for leisure, as they do every spring with a small group of friends in Aspen. Mikaela had considered going to medical school, like her father. Spending 220 days per year on the road takes its toll. But for the time being, there are still records to break and a goal that takes complete dedication—from both persons. “The last couple years have solidified even more that I can’t imagine finishing my career without my mum being there,” Mikaela reports. “I have physios, coaches, and plenty of people who literally bend over backwards to help, but they can’t replace what she does when she’s there. It’s impossible to explain everything she does.”

Eileen, sitting a foot away, interjects: “Let’s just suppose, theoretically—I’m not pushing this at all—in a couple years, my eyesight, memory, and joints deteriorate, but you’re still kicking butt. You could talk with the other girls about it.”

“I know,” Mikaela responds. “There is a possibility that it could work, but I don’t see any reason for us to investigate it. Because what is the point? We know what works, so there’s no reason not to keep continuing.