tuna.
Active member
well, i wrote this. i like skiing and you do too so i figure some might appreciate it a little.
Baggy Pants, Wide Stance, Fat Skis, Cork Three’s
Yes, it has been said every year since I can remember, but I promise, this will undoubtedly be the most epic ski season in recent history. I like to think of skiing like pizza, when it’s good it’s amazing, and when it’s bad, well, it’s still pretty good. This is the year, I can feel it. In the past I’ve been held back by minor inconveniences like injuries and lack of opportunity, but not this year. The beautiful thing about skiing is that success is not some medal you win in a competition you’re forced to compete in. I plan on having the most successful ski year of my life by having the most fun humanly possible with a group of hooligans I am lucky enough to call my friends.
We used to have the wrong idea, my friends and I, we thought that joining the freestyle team up at Schweitzer Mountain would make the season more fun. In some ways it did I suppose, but only because I met more people that I could ski with, which most likely would have happened anyways. However, now that friendships have been made and I have realized what I really want, my friends and I have quit the team. Not only was the large sum of money that was needed to be a part of the team a problem, but the team itself. Having to wait on some middle aged man to tell us when and where to have fun at all times got way too restricting. The simplicity that skiing is what you want it to be was taken away and that really decreased the value of my experience in the past two years. Now things are changing, we have no restrictions, no boundaries, and we are going to do everything possible to do whatever it is we feel like doing.
Many would think that skiing is a one season sport, but that is untrue. As a matter of fact, my whole year revolves around skiing in someway. Don’t believe me? Well, you would go into the backyard of each and any one of my friends house and see a trampoline that is personified with anticipation of the snow year. The stretched out springs and tattered up old mat remind us of the countless hours we have spent on them. It is more than just jumping up and down. It is practice. It is precision. It is art. Over the summer I have highly progressed. Rodeos, cork spins, flat spins, lincoln loops, misty’s, and boned out grabs may seem like a foreign language to you, but it’s all I know. Of course it may seem absurd to you that my best friend has two trampolines in his back yard, but to me it’s just another way to have fun and train for the season. The way the bright blue barrel that we each pitched in for gleams in the sun as one of us hand plants over it between the two trampolines is utterly rewarding. It never gets old; we’ve been doing the same thing for years. We have developed a perfect ratio of jumping on the trampoline and then running inside to watch part of a ski movie. As we are in awe of the absurdly fresh and style filled tricks the professionals throw, you can listen closely and hear the deep breathing of the recent jumping session. It seems odd, but not being able to walk up the stairs because of the pain in your legs from jumping with your closest friends on a trampoline you bought at a garage sale for twenty dollars just might be the best feeling ever. Well, next to skiing that is.
As we sit in the hot tub after a long day filled with new tricks and progression the conversation still dwells on skiing. A lot of my friends have been talking about the first run of the season, the first trick they want to do, the first jump they want to hit, but that doesn’t really matter to me as much. I just want to ski. Whether it’s your first run through the park, or your tenth trip to Alaska, once you know the feeling, it takes over you. It’s the bruises, broken bones, and raccoon like goggle tans are badges of honor in the ski world. It may be a two hour drive up to the mountain, but in my mind, I’m worlds away from home. Forgetfulness is a beautiful thing. Not having to worry about school, family, or any other inconvenient truths is a true blessing. The only thing on my mind is the next line I’m going to drop, the next chair I’m going to get on, or the next song I’m going to listen to. The short feeling of pure freedom may be temporary, but it’s always in the back of my mind. Anyway you look at it, I’m always thinking about skiing.
Why on earth would I ever want to leave such a place? Why don’t I move to New Zealand and ride year round as a ski bum? In all honesty, I have no idea. I have enough money for a plane ticket and a season pass, which is all I need. I could get a job at some shabby office or restaurant during the off season and then quit every winter and ski every day. Maybe I just don’t have the marbles to man up and do it, or maybe I would miss the people I love here too much. Either way, I will always love skiing. Although sometimes the relationship is love hate, I know that love always wins. The beat takes over, your pulse rages, and everything else disappears. This does not justify skiing, it does not summarize it to a point in which you think you know it, it is something that has to be experienced, something that words cannot describe. I wish I could be as confident in all aspects of life like I am with skiing. Instead I’m filled with foolish second guesses and indecisive actions, but I could never let such things take over my winter. Ski every run as if it were closing day, and take in those final turns. Because until you ride again, it’s all you’ll ever want.
Baggy Pants, Wide Stance, Fat Skis, Cork Three’s
Yes, it has been said every year since I can remember, but I promise, this will undoubtedly be the most epic ski season in recent history. I like to think of skiing like pizza, when it’s good it’s amazing, and when it’s bad, well, it’s still pretty good. This is the year, I can feel it. In the past I’ve been held back by minor inconveniences like injuries and lack of opportunity, but not this year. The beautiful thing about skiing is that success is not some medal you win in a competition you’re forced to compete in. I plan on having the most successful ski year of my life by having the most fun humanly possible with a group of hooligans I am lucky enough to call my friends.
We used to have the wrong idea, my friends and I, we thought that joining the freestyle team up at Schweitzer Mountain would make the season more fun. In some ways it did I suppose, but only because I met more people that I could ski with, which most likely would have happened anyways. However, now that friendships have been made and I have realized what I really want, my friends and I have quit the team. Not only was the large sum of money that was needed to be a part of the team a problem, but the team itself. Having to wait on some middle aged man to tell us when and where to have fun at all times got way too restricting. The simplicity that skiing is what you want it to be was taken away and that really decreased the value of my experience in the past two years. Now things are changing, we have no restrictions, no boundaries, and we are going to do everything possible to do whatever it is we feel like doing.
Many would think that skiing is a one season sport, but that is untrue. As a matter of fact, my whole year revolves around skiing in someway. Don’t believe me? Well, you would go into the backyard of each and any one of my friends house and see a trampoline that is personified with anticipation of the snow year. The stretched out springs and tattered up old mat remind us of the countless hours we have spent on them. It is more than just jumping up and down. It is practice. It is precision. It is art. Over the summer I have highly progressed. Rodeos, cork spins, flat spins, lincoln loops, misty’s, and boned out grabs may seem like a foreign language to you, but it’s all I know. Of course it may seem absurd to you that my best friend has two trampolines in his back yard, but to me it’s just another way to have fun and train for the season. The way the bright blue barrel that we each pitched in for gleams in the sun as one of us hand plants over it between the two trampolines is utterly rewarding. It never gets old; we’ve been doing the same thing for years. We have developed a perfect ratio of jumping on the trampoline and then running inside to watch part of a ski movie. As we are in awe of the absurdly fresh and style filled tricks the professionals throw, you can listen closely and hear the deep breathing of the recent jumping session. It seems odd, but not being able to walk up the stairs because of the pain in your legs from jumping with your closest friends on a trampoline you bought at a garage sale for twenty dollars just might be the best feeling ever. Well, next to skiing that is.
As we sit in the hot tub after a long day filled with new tricks and progression the conversation still dwells on skiing. A lot of my friends have been talking about the first run of the season, the first trick they want to do, the first jump they want to hit, but that doesn’t really matter to me as much. I just want to ski. Whether it’s your first run through the park, or your tenth trip to Alaska, once you know the feeling, it takes over you. It’s the bruises, broken bones, and raccoon like goggle tans are badges of honor in the ski world. It may be a two hour drive up to the mountain, but in my mind, I’m worlds away from home. Forgetfulness is a beautiful thing. Not having to worry about school, family, or any other inconvenient truths is a true blessing. The only thing on my mind is the next line I’m going to drop, the next chair I’m going to get on, or the next song I’m going to listen to. The short feeling of pure freedom may be temporary, but it’s always in the back of my mind. Anyway you look at it, I’m always thinking about skiing.
Why on earth would I ever want to leave such a place? Why don’t I move to New Zealand and ride year round as a ski bum? In all honesty, I have no idea. I have enough money for a plane ticket and a season pass, which is all I need. I could get a job at some shabby office or restaurant during the off season and then quit every winter and ski every day. Maybe I just don’t have the marbles to man up and do it, or maybe I would miss the people I love here too much. Either way, I will always love skiing. Although sometimes the relationship is love hate, I know that love always wins. The beat takes over, your pulse rages, and everything else disappears. This does not justify skiing, it does not summarize it to a point in which you think you know it, it is something that has to be experienced, something that words cannot describe. I wish I could be as confident in all aspects of life like I am with skiing. Instead I’m filled with foolish second guesses and indecisive actions, but I could never let such things take over my winter. Ski every run as if it were closing day, and take in those final turns. Because until you ride again, it’s all you’ll ever want.
