When we ski poorly…

Don’t you love it, when we feel that we ski so well, that every turn links to the next seamlessly, that each obstacle, each change of terrain gets integrated into the whole and that the end result was just as effortless a rendition as much as it had looked so very good to the few who happened to watched us? Well, this is what I’d call skiing divinely, but that’s not always the case. 

Last Friday when I skied Ninety-Nine-90, under my favorite chairlift in Park City, I had to muster and deliver all the ski technique I had ever learned over 71 winter seasons, and each of 10 laps I took on the 1,536 foot vertical, non-stop run, came at much expense to me in terms of attention and fatigue. 

I certainly didn’t feel that I skied well at all that day, not to mention great, by any stretch of exaggeration! At the end I truly felt beat-up and filled with doubt. Doubt about my current fitness, my older status in life and my ability to carry on as a good skier. Then, my observations came to my defense. 

That part of the mountain had just opened up the day before on old unpacked snow dating back to October and November, that had not been compacted at all, that broke down for no reason, that resisted cutting and sliding at each and every turn. It also invited aggressive shovels to dig in and catch skis before one could realize there was a problem. 

I finally had an excuse, my reputation and my self-confidence had been saved or at the very least excused for yet another day!