My earliest memory of skiing is an old picture my parents use to have. In it, I am about three and a half feet tall, bundled up tight, wearing
world’s largest sweater, woolen socks pulled up past my knees, and wrapped in a never-ending scarf. My ski poles reached sky, their baskets were as big as my head, and my skis had old traditional bear trap bindings. I could lie flat out on them, reach my arms over my head, and never have a hope of touching tip or tail of ski. Now, I’m thinking my folks must have gotten these as hand me downs; from a GIANT! Fortunately, skiing attire and equipment has come a long way since then and my love for sport continues to grow. Some friends convinced me to register for Level I Ski Instructor’s course that was taking place at Sunshine Village Ski Resort. I had previously mentioned to them my dream of retiring from an administrative job and becoming a ski instructor. They felt taking course would be a pre-retirement opportunity. Their son, Matt, was taking it, so why not join him? Continued encouragement included: my passion for skiing, I felt good when I skied, and, they felt I would breeze through course because they think I ski well. I’m so there! There’s nothing like a bit of ego boosting to get you ready for plunge.
Another major attraction for taking course was potential to become one of those phenomenal synchronized skiers in red suits – Ski Instructors. There have been hundreds of times that I’ve ridden up lifts and scanned hills for them. At local ski resorts around Banff, groups of instructors tend to go out for early morning and afternoon runs – officially their practice time to improve skills. The instructors congregate at designated spots and receive whatever instructions required for their next descent. A lead skier takes off. They are quickly followed by another skier, and another, until entire group is snaking down hill … in perfect unison, perfect form, carving smoothly and precisely down slope. What a sight! Since I’m usually on ski hill early, I hunt them down. My favourite sightings are when I’m riding up lift and I can watch them going through their paces from top – it makes me hold my breath, no blinking … nearly gives me goose bumps (I know,– I could possibly be accused of stalking with this type of obsessive behaviour). My fantasy is to join those ranks, to be part of that line, and ski just like them. (my family thinks I need to get out more and live a bigger fantasy). I’m so going to take Instructor Course. I AM TOTALLY pumped because I love skiing, I feel good when I ski, I was born on skis, I want to wear reds, and how hard can it be?
Day 1 of course - OH MY GOODNESS! Reality check! You want me to go down hill how? Looking like what? You've got to be kidding? There’s people watching – what will they think? This can not possibly be how instructors learn to ski!
I keep hearing a very loud voice barking out commands: “get lower”, “hands out in front”, “wider stance”, and “cut out fat” (now I know I’m not signed up for a weight loss program so I’m choosing to ignore that one). It doesn’t matter where I turn; those persistent orders follow me, continually replaying same instructions and sounding gruffer with each repetition. I’m guessing, since he’s instructor, this must be going somewhere. I'm just not really seeing how or where it’s going. Did I mention I’m truly hurting - in my knees, my hips and my thighs are on fire! Each run is more painful than last. I'm told it’s progress! The kids in group are stressed about passing course; I'm stressed about ever being able to walk again! (and, heaven forbid that someone I know will see me ski this way!) I think I failed to mention that I’m oldest in group – in fact I’m old enough to be everyone’s Mother (not that age is an issue, it just helps me justify why I am hurting).
I spend whole day skiing totally out of control, unbalanced, a “fish out of water” feeling. It was worst ski day I've ever experienced. Who would ever pretend to balance a wine glass across their poles, or form a picture frame or better yet, intentionally ski down hill looking like a total geek?!!
Day 2 –I hit hill early to try a few runs before class. I’ve decided if all my body parts ache by end of run, I'm using some of techniques from yesterday (possibly a sign of acquiring appropriate stance). Okay, we can adapt/adjust, try to do it their way.
The morning class is excellent; sun is out, sky is blue, snow is getting soft. When our group skis down run, I always bring up rear – it’s Mother in me, continually “gathering flock” syndrome. Now that they’ve armed my” flock” with sharp sticks and placed slippery boards on their feet, I know I’m in safest position. Just before lunch, Brent takes us on a free ski over Headwall (one of my all time favorites). The run starts with a steep drop and lands in a bowl filled with numerous moguls. I see Brent go over edge of Wall but rest of group puts on brakes and peers over. Dang! My run is feeling great and I'm going over (and I’m going to be so embarrassed if I eat it during process). I take plunge, hit moguls, utilize my awkward newly developed stance; relax and I’m loving it. That run felt really good! I even admit to Brent that maybe all this stuff does work. I'm energized, I can do this! I know I can!
To my utter dismay, this euphoric feeling only lasts for a brief period of time. Next run I seem to lose whatever I’d found and am right back to being infamous fish out of water. The whole afternoon is a repeat of Saturday. To end off weekend, we all have to do a few turns for video camera. The grand finale for day - video critiquing session with course instructors. Now there's a warm fuzzy feeling to leave on! During my few on camera turns I’d felt not bad, not great, but definitely not as bad as I now see on screen. Ouch! ! All way home (and it’s a three hour drive), I spend time beating myself up about how badly I’d done (obviously accepting constructive criticism may be a skill that I need to work on).
I will not be beaten! I will succeed! I skip work for a couple days prior to next part of course. First one on hill, last one off; I even take a private two-hour lesson. Jen Collison, (a Level 3 Ski Instructor at Sunshine) proves to be a patient ”saint on skis”. She assists me with developing skills I need to survive course. Jen, who is incredibly tolerant; breaks skills into small pieces and I am able to ask and ask and re-ask anything that is not sinking in. This was so much easier to do when you’re one on one versus being in class situation where rest of group is rolling their eyes because you're so dense and can't get it. I can tell that life experiences, (or interpersonal management courses), have taught her to control her facial and body expressions to convince me I’m not frustrating daylights out of her. I spent rest of time focusing on what she’s taught me; practicing, practicing, and (did I mention) practicing! Every now and then, I am discouraged because it doesn’t feel good, I lose rhythm. Never mind, I’ll just do a fun run. But on my fun run, I can’t find my happy place (where/how I use to ski). It’s gone, and new style is feeling way too stiff. Solution - turn up tunes, tuck it, get over it and try again.
