ski lessons that apply to real life

As my old stomping grounds in Massachusetts got dumped on yesterday with almost three feet of snow, I sat here outside of Philly with my measly three inches and was a little bummed out. The schools prematurely cancelled under the threat of the eight to twelve inches that never appeared. We had a fake snow day. A day off from school without any snow. The kids made the best of it. The went sledding until the grass started to show through the hill and played outside for most of the day.

I am one of those people who likes snow. Growing up in northern Florida, I didn’t experience a lot of it. I went to college in the northeast and have never left. The winters haven’t phased me one bit (Okay there was that one year when the boys were two and three and it snowed every day in January and my husband was traveling the whole month–that wasn’t pretty.)

A few years ago when Kevin wanted to teach our kids how to ski, I learned too.

I wasn’t looking to take on a new sport necessarily. But I did want something that we could all do together. I wasn’t afraid of getting hurt, although maybe I should have been. I trusted my body, my athleticism and my balance to be able to handle the physical challenges.

And like most things in my life, it was what was going on in my head that was my biggest obstacle.

I was afraid of making a complete ass out of myself.

The year was 2000 and my newish boyfriend (now husband) organized a ski trip to Vermont for a group of our friends. Not knowing how to ski, I hung out in the lodge for the first day. By the second day, I was ready to give skiing a try. I kept to the wide, gentle beginner slopes for most of the day completely content and happy to be skiing.

I was convinced (bullied, cajoled) to go further up the mountain where I promptly panicked at the top while trying to get off the lift. As the lift turned the corner to go back down the mountain, I didn’t know what to do so I jumped off the lift into the nearest snow bank. As I lay face down in the snow, the ski patrol came over to check on me. I was fine, but my ego and self confidence were badly bruised.

I made it down the mountain with swears flying and tears flowing. I turned in my skis and finished my snow sports career.

When it was time for my kids to learn, I had a choice. I could either join in or be forever left out. For once, I didn’t let fear get the best of me.

The last couple of years we’ve been able to go skiing at different mountains in Massachusetts, Vermont, and now in Pennsylvania. I’ve learned a lot about myself, my family and the world of skiing. And amazingly enough, I think these lessons can be applied to just about anything.

1. You can have everything you need and still fall down. 

Skiing requires a lot of equipment and gear. Some of it’s for safety, but most of it is so that you don’t freeze your ass off. You can be 100% ready, have brought all the gear that you need, and you will still fall, you will still be cold, you will still struggle. Like in life, after a certain point, preparation doesn’t matter. You just have to do it.

2. If you can’t help yourself, you can’t help your kids.

Every once in awhile I’ll find myself on a particularly challenging run and the thought will cross my mind, “What if one of the boys fall?” Not because I’m afraid that they are going to get hurt, but because if they go down, they might need my help. And if I’m struggling to on my own, how will I ever be able to help them if I can’t help myself? I know that I have to deal with myself first.

3. You can carry more crap than you could ever imagine.

Many of our ski adventures are day trips. We bring everything we need for one day to live in the lodge for eight hours – gear, food, dry clothes, entertainment. My husband is not a minimalist on this front. Why bring one hat when you could bring three? That’s how he rolls. And we carry it all. We hike from the last row in the parking lot (sometimes board a shuttle) and navigate the crowded lodge. This is the less glamourous part of skiing. The schlepping. This is when I have to remind myself…

4. One step at a time.

Just put one foot in front of the other. Keeping moving. And eventually, we will get where we need to go. Sometimes just the thought of everything that has to be done for one day of skiing overwhelms me to a point of paralyzation. I want to say, forget it. Let’s just stay home and watch Cartoon Network. To avoid this overload, when it gets too hard…

5. Ask for help.

Asking for help has never been my strong suit. My independent streak borders on crazy. But my days at the ski hill have reminded me that I can’t do everything on my own. Sometimes I have to ask for a hand whether it’s getting down a tough spot or with a boot that just doesn’t want to cooperate.

6. We’re all in this together.

I live for the feeling when we’re having a good day on the hill, and my family is functioning as a cohesive unit. That feeling of togetherness makes braving the cold and the crowds and the lugging all worth it.

7. Quit while you’re ahead.

Any skier knows that “One last run…” is the most tempting phrase ever. You’re there, you’re out, just one more. I can say from experience that once last run is never a good idea. Knowing when to quit, to accept the day you’ve had, be grateful for the experience and then walk away is the secret to having a great ski day.

There is a moment that I wait for when we’re skiing. It’s usually on a pretty easy trail and maybe we’re the only ones on it at that moment. Kevin takes the lead, then the boys follow, and I bring up the rear. The snow is fresh and the air is crisp and the view of the valley below and the mountains in the distance is beautiful.

It’s quiet. And while we’re all doing our own thing, we’re together. Outside. Experiencing the beauty and majesty that this world has to offer. And I think to myself, “This is why we do this.”

Often there are Bloody Mary’s waiting on the other end. This helps immensely.