"If you've never seen an elephant ski, you've never been on acid." - Eddie Izzard
That is with the possible exception if you saw me ski before 2004. I
come to this sport of skiing a little like an elephant on skis and I
guess I don't know you well enough to tell you whether I've never been
on acid.
I started skiing in high school
when I lived in California. It was the 70's so everything was a little
weird. But I definitely remember my first
time on skis and how wonderful it felt.
In fact, I remember it being the most fun I had experienced in my then
young life. And I was horrible. But that didn't matter.
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Over the next twenty five years, I
studied more, skied less, got married, skied less, got a job, skied less, had
kids, skied less, gained weight, skied less.
From California, I
relocated to Alaska where the ski
mountains are limited for the novice.
Later, I moved to Washington State
where the options increased slightly.
It was there that I started to ski
more. I was just as ill equipped, if not
more, to tackle a mountain on a couple of slippery planks as I had been in my
"youth" but I was at least wiser and more goal oriented. But I was still in a fundamental rut. I was ashamed but compelled by my fear of
injury to check the "Level I" box when I took my skis for their annual
tune. After a couple of seasons, I could
stand the self imposed humiliation no longer and deemed myself a "Level
II." But I was still out of shape and
slipping my tails, not connecting turns and hockey stopping my way around the
ski hill.
Then I visited Utah. Sometime shortly after the turn of the
century, my best friends moved to the Ogden
Valley, north of Salt
Lake City. My
first trip was amazing. The snow forgave
my mistakes. It didn't really make me
better but the forgiveness gave me a glimpse of what it could be to
improve. After several days of bliss
(forgetting, of course, the burning thighs from still being out of shape) I
returned to earth and Washington State. Back in the Cascades, I regaled those few who
would listen with stories of champagne powder dreams and caviar . . . whatever
. . . wishes.
The Cascades, for a mediocre skier,
offer many challenges. You regularly
face unforgiving ice even on the most recently groomed run. When powder comes, it is most often in the
form of mashed potatoes. For a man in
his forties, it did not provide the appropriate level of affirmation that I
felt from the soft snow several mountain ranges and a couple of States to the
east. So I pined for my next trip to the
land of the inland sea.
I also became convinced that
getting in shape would help me enjoy my short visits. I had the experience, during my first couple
of trips to Utah, trying to get
in ski shape during the first couple of days skiing at Snowbasin. This only resulted in one day of skiing
without pain and three days of skiing for short spurts with my thighs and my
lungs on fire. So I resolved to do
myself a favor and start preparing my body several months in advance. It is no surprise that as the weight came off
and the thighs took shape, the prospect of skiing better became more
realistic.
I recalled the winter before I
undertook to improve my body and improve my skiing. I was trying to learn how to ski in powder
deeper than my boots. It was all good
until I fell. And then there I was, the
elephant on skis. You can imagine how
difficult it is for an elephant to get up off the ground with skis lashed to
his feet. It is "feet," isn't it? Anyway, there I was, head downhill, one ski pointing
west and the other to the sky. Even in
shape this is no easy task. But out of
shape, elephant on skis. After many
false starts and fits of rage, sweat filling my parka and my enthusiasm drained,
I finally got to an upright position. Of
course my skis were now off my boots and, well, you know how the rest of that
process goes. It ain't pretty. So my incentive to get in ski shape was well
grounded in my desire to keep my elephant off the slope.
After a couple of seasons, I
finally had my fitness program in place:
elliptical for an hour a day, followed by stretching and abs. As often as possible, a little bosu ball
action for balance. And most recently, I
added The Skier's Edge, Big Mountain Series, to the program. That machine, more than any other I have
stepped on, improved my skiing skills.
Not only is it a great thigh burner and lung expander, it provides sound
muscle memory repetition perfectly suited to all types of skiing. I will bank and warrant on it that the first
time I clicked in on the slopes, after having spent several hours sliding back
and forth on the Edge, I was a new skier.
I found the edges of my skis like never before. My shaped skis made turns faster than I was
comfortable, at first. And they were
connected.
Oh, and then there was powder. Yeah, you all here float like you were birds
in flight. But to a Northwester, the
first feeling of flying through smokey powder with your skis bouncing to the
left and to the right like they were stuck to the tracks of a steel tube roller
coaster, is better than sex. No its
not. Yes it is. No its not.
Well its close. So thank you Utah. Thank you Odgen
Valley and Snowbasin and Pow
Mow. You have given an elephant
wings. See you in a couple of months.
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