Busy Busy Busy

This is my busy time of year when I'm working like crazy at my 4 jobs. And Ace is feeling the crunch, too, working all over the place for PSIA. Here's our current week:

Saturday, 2/20: Me: Teaching Skiing at Plattekill Mountain, taught morning lessons, then skied up on a people struggling in afternoon, gave them a couple of tips, and they booked me for a private lesson in the coming weeks. Ace: Examiner for Level I Exam at Thunder Ridge Ski Area.

Sunday, 2/21: Me: Attended Kåre Andersen Memorial Telemark Event at Bromley Mountain, did the Tele Race in the morning, and Taught Tele Clinics in the afternoon. Ace: Day Two, as an Examiner of Level I at Thunder Ridge. Everyone passed, we have new members and good course evaluations for her.

Monday, 2/22: Me: Understudy a Telemark Bump Event at Belleayre Mountain, teach all day, and drive back home at night. Ace: Back to work at "regular" job, 8:30-4:30.

Tuesday, 2/23: Me: Continue to understudy Telemark Bump Event at Belleayre, certify a new 20 something year old instructor as Telemark Level I (again, good course evaluations). From there, drive up to West Mountain, where I teach a Community College skiing class on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Taught skiing from 8:30-2:30 and 5:45-7:45, with lots of driving in between. Ace: worked regular job from 8:30-2ish, then drove to Mount Snow, where she's understudying another event for the next two days.

Wednesday (today): Me: Finally back at "real" job, working 7:00-4:30 (I work extended hours to get every other Monday off). Stock club meeting with some buddies after work, then home to do laundry. Ace: Understudying and Teaching at Mount Snow.

Thursday, 2/25: Me: Working at "real" job from 7:00-3:40, then going up to West to teach the skiing class (unless they don't open, in which case, I'll be teaching a ski tuning clinic at the college). I'll be doing that from 5:45 to 7:45, and probably getting home around 8:30. Ace: Day Two of Teaching and understudying at Mount Snow, then driving home.

Friday, 2/26: Me: I'm taking another day off of work for a Plattekill Telemark Festival, and probably teaching telemark skiing all day. Ace: back at "real" job for her crazy busy day on Friday.

Saturday, 2/27: Me: Back to work as a regular "Part Time" Instructor at Plattekill, where I have a group of kids who telemark in the morning, and private lessons in the afternoon. Ace: joining me at Plattekill, where she has private lessons booked all day.

Sunday, 2/28: Both of us at Gore Mountain, where we thought we might take a day off from teaching and just ski, but a guy I met at the Bromley thing wants to ski with me and work on some stuff, so I'm going to help him out, and maybe a few other Telemark people I know from various places. Hopefully I don't get too sucked into this (because I'll desperately need a day "off" at this point), but once I start teaching, it's hard for me to shut myself down. 

Monday, 2/29: Me: Adirondack Backcountry telemark event for the Community College. Hopefully being able to coach some telemark skiers up to Level 1 status to get more people involved in PSIA. Ace: back at "real" job, 8:30-4:30.

So there's a little taste of our lives. Currently, it is POURING rain outside, so I don't know how much longer the season is going to last here in the east. I'm still looking forward to more skiing, though. Here's a taste of that Monday/Tuesday event at Belleayre:

Little bit of video from the #PSIA Telemark Clinic the other day. Full Video here: https://vimeo.com/156499768

A video posted by Matt (@mattchuck2) on Feb 24, 2016 at 6:28pm PST

How to Get Better at Doing Things

Between this blog, PSIA, and random posts on forums, I've written a lot of words about skiing. But there are a lot of things that I've written that have never seen the light of day. Sometimes it's for the best, like the Party Ski screenplay I'm writing that never gets finished. But sometimes, I just feel like my writing doesn't really fit in any kind of outlet. As an example, here's an article that I was going to submit to the Eastern Division PSIA newsletter, but it didn't really come out the way I wanted it to. It's not bad, but I just felt that it wouldn't help people that much (maybe I'm wrong, I don't know). It's written to boost up people who are going for PSIA exams, so I apologize if it seems irrelevant to some, but I think everyone can benefit from the message: To get better at something, you gotta work hard on that thing.

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Want to Pass Exams? Get Better


Exams are stressful. They’re arduous, draining, sometimes humiliating, and always intrusive. You’ve been honing your craft, skiing hard, teaching regularly, and you’ve come up with a bunch of dynamic moves, learning progressions and teaching methods that work great for you. And now those people are going to JUDGE you for those things? And their decisions have an impact on your pay, your standing in your ski school, and your life? The pressure can be extraordinary, so the most important thing to realize is that your fate is not determined by “those people”, it’s determined by you.


There’s no secret to success. The way to getter better at anything is to do that thing. As a young comedian, Jerry Seinfeld made sure that he spent at least some time every day writing jokes. He’d put in an hour or two hours of solid, no interruption, joke writing every single day, try to come up with some funny material, and he would put a big X on his calendar when he was done for the day. After a few weeks, he’d have a chain of X-es on his calendar and his job would then be to “never break the chain”, or, put differently, to keep working at what he wanted to achieve. And this was not a new, original idea. Benjamin Franklin had a similar system for a harder to quantify checklist that included “Frugality”, “Cleanliness” and “Humility”, things that all ski instructors should try to work harder on.


So, if you’re struggling with exams (or any goals you might have), I recommend using the checkmark method to make yourself better. When you wake up in the morning, even in the dead of summer, you should ask yourself two questions:


1. What am I doing today to make myself a better skier?
2. What am I doing today to make myself a better instructor?


If you’re trying to make yourself a better skier, then ski. Ski before morning lineup, ski after your last lesson. Ski at night. Take a day off and ski at a mountain you’re not familiar with. Ski with people better than you. Ski terrain that scares you a little. Ski terrain that scares you a lot. Use natural terrain features in a creative way. Use both sides of a berm to work on flexion/extension movements. Ski on one ski to work on balance. See how many turns you can make in a short section of trail. See how fast you can go, how many angles you can create, and what your upper limits are. Do skiing things that are out of your comfort zone like backcountry skiing, park skiing, and pond skimming. Ski, then cross off the day on your calendar.


If you can’t ski, do something skiing related. Exercise to work your skiing muscles. Break out the rollerskis and get an XC workout. Don’t have rollerskis? Simulate tree skiing by riding your bike through the woods on some singletrack. It helps your quads, your balance, and your vision. Water ski to work on some edge angles. Kayak to develop core strength. Do Yoga. Watch ski videos. Watch more ski videos. Watch ALL THE SKI VIDEOS (that’s a big part of my training regimen). Do something and cross it off on your calendar. You earned it.


If you’re trying to make yourself a better instructor, it’s not about just accumulating knowledge. Yes, you should know all of the basics, a few of your favorite “stepping stones” and some technical terms that come up a lot, but great teaching is about more than pulling facts out of the air. Watch videos of random people skiing. Listen to other instructors describe that skiing. Work on your eye. Work on movement analysis. Develop plans for fictional clients. Come up with some creative ways to say and do things. Write an article or five. Teach kids? Watch some kids’ movies. Learn what kids are into so you can relate to them.

Even if you have the teaching concepts down, maybe you need to work on other parts of the instructor life. Get better at public speaking. Get more comfortable speaking to strangers. Try to develop a more sunny disposition (easier for some of us than others). Learn about things other than skiing so you can engage with your clients. LEARN something new. Get taught something. Ask yourself: what did the teacher do that was helpful? Ask yourself about the unhelpful parts too. How could they be improved? Cross the day off! You’re helping yourself be a better teacher.


Next ski season, instead of dreading the exam at the end of the year, embrace it. Look at the chain of X-es that you developed and realize that you’ve been working hard at this goal for a long time. You’ve made yourself a better skier, a better instructor, and a better person. You’re coming in more prepared than you ever have, and you are in charge of how this thing plays out. You’re ready. Just do what you’ve been doing for months.
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I've been trying to live that mantra this year. My goal is to make the Telemark National Team and I'm trying to get as much Telemark skiing in as I can. I have about 20 days in so far, and I'm itching for more. Also, I need to be in phenomenal shape (because of the elevation at Breckenridge and the long tryout days), so I skinned up about 1,200 vertical feet on Monday after skiing Gore all morning.



Finally, I'd like to get better at Park riding, so I spent 2 hours in the cold on Monday night sessioning one flat rail in the West Mountain Terrain Park until I was confident that I could nail it. Next time I'm there, I'll spend 2 hours coming in switch until I have that move down. This might not help my tryout that much, but I'm kinda doing that for my own personal motivation - I want to be better, and that means I gotta work at it.

PSIA National Team Tryout Video

I mentioned a little while ago that my next skiing goal was to make the PSIA National Telemark Team. They have tryouts every 4 years, and the next tryout is in . . . 2016. So I'm submitting an application to tryout. As part of the application, they want a video that explains my background, my vision for the organization, and what I would bring to the team. If you're interested in my skiing life, I think I managed to explain it pretty well:


PSIA Telemark National Team Application Video from Matt Charles on Vimeo.

Now, just submitting the application doesn't mean that I'll get a chance to try out. There are only 9 tryout spots for the whole country. And there are 3 people already on the team who might be trying out again. And there are a lot of great tele skiers all over the country that will be submitting applications, too. So there is no guarantee that I'll be invited to try out in Breckenridge this April. I'm hoping the video above will help lay the groundwork.

Also, good news for the blog: PSIA wants candidates that are able to ski and teach, but they also want candidates that are well versed in social networking, writing, and visual media. So, in order to show that I can (still) do those things, the blog will probably have a lot of action this winter. There will be more Trip Reports, more pictures, and maybe even a couple of instruction articles, So if you like telemark skiing, backcountry touring, and pictures & videos of eastern skiing, stick around.

New Article About Tele Skiing and Blog Stuff

It's been over one year since I've posted anything on this blog, which probably means that it's dying a slow death in the way many blogs do. I have been up to some stuff, which you can follow on my twitter, my Instagram, and my Facebook. I just don't really like posting Trip Reports of places that I've been to before (never did) and I never seem to find the time to write posts about new places I visit.

Also, I like my posts about life the most, but I don't know if I feel the need to hash things out on the internet the way I used to. Now that I have somewhat of a plan (involving a little of this kind of thing, mixed with a little bit of this, and a little bit of this - obviously not on the same timeline and as aggressive as those people, but using the same maths), I feel like I just need to put in the time and everything will turn out fine in the end. So I'm not really stressed or worried about much. Maybe I am  already rich. Actually, I've been enjoying the Miller High Life commercials that pretty much make that argument:



It's something I've been wondering about. We need a feeling of scarcity to be driven to accomplish things. We need to want things (achievements, money, accolades). As Ben Franklin said:

Who is Rich? He that is content. Who is that? Nobody.

But if we don't want too many more things? What if I am actually pretty content with what I've got and where I am in life?

Luckily, life has a way of throwing up obstacles just as the road starts to smooth out. So even if I get momentary periods of calm and happiness, something will come up soon. My car is being held together by zip ties and prayers, so I might have to worry about that soon. And winter is coming, which means I'll have a busy winter of going skiing and teaching skiing.

And speaking of teaching skiing, I wrote another article for the PSIA Eastern division newsletter. It's in the Summer 2015 issue at this link and it's on page 18 if you're interested in reading about the advantages of a powerful stance in telemark skiing.

I'm at a crossroads with the blog. I'll probably keep it around to write periodic thoughts, but I'd also like to branch out with my writing, photography, and video stuff. Not sure what direction I'll take it or if I'll develop a new blog with a different focus (and maybe an actual dot com domain name). I might try to develop a telemark instructional website, which seems to be an underserved niche on the internet, or maybe try building a frugal ski bum blog that I can monetize and use as a "retirement" job in 10 years or so.

Whatever happens, I'm going to keep moving forward and take whatever opportunities I get. Life's too short to not do the things you want to do.

Life Change Time?

I was reading an article in a Mountain Biking magazine (can’t remember which), and it was going over ways that you could turn your passion (biking, in this case) into your career. It listed the various options (professional, industry insider, writer, photographer, guide, etc.) and the pros and cons of each choice. None of them seemed particularly appealing. Or, I guess the better way to say it is: the cons seemed to outweigh the pros in every case (with the possible exception of “professional”, which is a very time limited career with a lot of things that can go wrong). I've said before that the problem with working in an industry is an intricate knowledge of its ugly side. Well, another problem with working in an industry with an enormous potential labor pool is the really, really, really crappy pay. Any job that is desirable can afford to pay their employees poorly. But the ski industry is particularly bad. And it doesn’t seem to be getting any better.

With that in mind, I was thinking of the possible ways that one could go about establishing a life in a mountain town. Obviously, one way to do it is to just do it. Now. Sell the house, sell the stuff (besides the skis and mountain bikes – you’ll need those), cash in the 401k, get in your car (containing only gear and clothes), and start driving in October. Find a cheap apartment, a low end job (preferably night hours), get a dog, grow a beard, and live the laid back life of a ski bum. “Laid back” is a relative term here, because this option seems to lend itself to money problems and health insurance difficulties for the rest of your life (or at least until you turn 65 when the dystopian, socialist hell of Medicare kicks in; thank GOD we don’t have that for everybody [/sarcasm]).

The second option is to wait until retirement. Save up a ton of money, pay off your mortgage, and just buy a small little house or condo in Telluride or Park City with that cash. This idea is not entirely unreasonable – many years of diligent saving can get you some good coin, selling a paid off house in 30 years can net you some more cash, and you can piece together a pretty decent retirement income between social security, a pension (if you have one), and a retirement job (ski instructor or hotel work or whatever). Or, do what some people (people that are richer than I) are doing and buy a 2^nd home that can double as a ski house while you work, and a retirement house when you get older. The downside of this option is that you miss the best years of your life because you’re working some crappy job all day when you could be skiing. Then, when you finally get some free time after retirement, you’re so old that “getting rad” mostly involves cruising the groomers.

There’s got to be a better option. If only there was some happy medium - some way to work long enough so that you could save enough money to just enjoy life and not have to worry about a soul sucking corporate job or injury related bankruptcy. Some way to own a house in a ski town, but not have to leave it every Sunday night to drive back to suburbia, dreading the following day at the office.

I’m trying to think of ways to accomplish this. So far, I’ve come up with two ideas: going back to school for my Master’s degree (at some place near mountains – Northern Arizona, Montana State, University of Utah, etc.), and hypersaving (plowing tons of money into savings and retirements accounts for the next few years by living on beans & rice, depriving myself of luxuries, and driving my car well after I’m done paying it off). The Master’s degree would probably entail taking out student loans (ugh), but the hypersaving idea could be financially smart. If I can save enough money in the next few years, I could move out west with the money from home equity, some pretty good money in retirement accounts, and enough savings to cover a year or two of living while ski instructing and looking for a job in my field. Unfortunately, hypersaving would involve cutting down my spending on frivolous crap (which I don’t really do), and cutting down my spending on going out, drinking and socializing (which I definitely do). Damn.

I guess it’s one of those times in life when you have to decide what is most important; one of those times in life when you have to identify what you want, and formulate a plan for how you want to get it. When I started this blog almost 4 years ago, I wrote a post about how as people get older, they trade security for freedom (buying a house is the financially responsible, secure thing to do, but you lose the freedom to just up and leave whenever you want, etc.). I mentioned that I wanted the blog to reflect a life well lived, not a boring life where I go to work every day and come home every night and watch TV. Well, after 4 years of going to work every day and coming home every night to watch TV, I’m getting pretty freaking sick of it. Not that I haven’t had some good times and some awesome trips, but this sandbox is getting boring and I need a new playground.

Warren Miller says that if you don’t quit your job and move to ski country this year, you’ll be one year older when you do. Every year, his voice gets louder in my head, and I can’t seem to shake it. The other voice in my head is Morgan Freeman in Shawshank Redemption: “Get busy living, or get busy dying”.

Well, I’m not dying anytime soon. There are many years of getting rad to come.

More Instagram

My blog posts always taper off this time of year because I'm working my ass off - my regular job 5 days a week plus teaching skiing 4 days a week. It gets pretty tiring. In fact, this is the first day I haven't skied since last Wednesday. I haven't got much news, but I do have some pictures. Here's some that I have on my phone:

MTB Trip Report - Millstone Trails/Rockfire (6/23/12)

The best part about Millstone (in Barre, Vermont) is the variety. We rode there all day, and didn't hit a single trail that we did last year. And we were there during a really cool event called Rockfire. It was a festival with artists, musicians, drinking and fire. So, like I said, really cool. Here's some highlights:

We started the climb up from the touring center, and we found some cool carvings on the way up:

We decided to take Roller Coaster, a trail we didn't get to last year. The way there had some cool features:

The trail was really fun, too. It was a One Way downhill with lots of drops, banks, and fun stuff to play on. Here's Ace negotiating the teeter-totter (poor photography due to wrong lens choice):

We rode it all the way down and then played around in the Harrington Ridge/Harrington Heights area:

Then, we made our way back to the start, but not before fooling around near one of the quarries that Millstone is famous for:

After a quick break at the touring center, we rode a little doubletrack to get back to the other area of the map:

We rode for another hour and a half, and then it was time for the evening festivities:

Followed by Fire. First, they lit a wooden sculpture:

Then they lit a bunch of bonfires on the hillside where we started out our ride in the morning:

Then there was a walking tour up to that hill, where a lot of the sculptures we saw earlier in the day were lit up:

Very cool. Finally, we returned to the field for a release of those sky lantern thingies that float away in the air:

All in all, it was a fantastic summer day.

Some might be curious about Ace being in these pics, especially after semi-recent events. Well, she's still my favorite mountain biking partner, my favorite person to hang out with, and my favorite friend. Sometimes people stay in your life for a reason. I don't know what's going to happen in the future between us, but I know I'll be happier if she's around to go on these sorts of adventures with me.

I have a few more adventures to report on, but next weekend is the Single Speed Championship up in Stowe and I gotta get out and train!

5 Thoughts on Alaska and Alaska Video

So, I finally finished my Alaska Ski Video (embedded below), and I wanted to give a few final thoughts on Alaska.

Thought 1: This place rules. For somebody who loves adventure, this place is as good as it gets. Just the stuff I turned down or didn't have the money for (ski tour down a frozen creek to a remote ice climbing destination, heli drop at a remote backcountry yurt for week of touring) would be incredible. Me living in Alaska would be like a gambling addict living in Las Vegas.  I'd have an amazing time, but I'd almost definitely get myself into trouble.  Which leads me to . . .

Thought 2: I need more training. I definitely need more knowledge - snow safety, wilderness first aid, mountaineering, etc.  I didn't feel grossly unprepared, but I definitely wasn't the most educated person there. In fact, my complete ignorance of avalanche knowledge was kind of embarrassing.  I might take the PSIA Backcountry Accreditation next year, which would put me in a good place to take a AIARE Level 2 Course the following year. That, combined with a lot more backcountry trips and maybe a few ice climbing adventures will make me a lot more comfortable when I get into winter shenanigans.

Thought 3: I did it all wrong. If I was trying to have a pure ski vacation, I screwed up royally.  I really only got one resort day at Alyeska and 5 backcountry ski days. I guess 6 "skiing" days in a 10 day vacation is pretty good, but a lot of those touring days consisted of a long hike up, followed by 1 run down.  A couple of times, I'd hike halfway up again and get another run out of it, but it was definitely more of a "hike" day than a "ski" day.  Next time, it's going to be more like this guy:

Pickup truck. Camper on pickup truck. Ski rack on camper on pickup truck. Trailer on pickup truck. 2 Snowmobiles in trailer.  Not a bad way to access all of that powder in the background. Of course, having a snowmobile (or 2) would really have been no good for me because . . . 

Thought 4: Travelling alone sucks. I was visiting a college friend that was only available for adventures on the weekends (which were awesome). The problem was, she works all week, and I had to find my own adventures Monday - Friday (which is a lot more difficult by myself).  At the resort, skiing by yourself is never really the best time, and in the backcountry, skiing by yourself is never really the best idea. So, I ended up having to ski in a lot of heavily trafficked snowmobile skiing areas, when I would have much rather been out in the middle of nowhere. And not to sound vain, but it's nice to get pictures and videos of yourself shot by a buddy (like that Tug Hill Trip). I'm not really satisfied with the below video for this reason (too much first person GoPro-ing without another person in the frame).

Thought 5: I'm not sure if I'd want to live here. The mountains and adventure opportunities are fantastic. The skiing is great. The mountain biking is supposed to be phenomenal (how could it not be?). I could seriously have an amazing adventure every weekend and, for at least 6 months of the year, every day after work. The problem is, I think I caught it at the best time. Right now, Alaska is going through "breakup", a season of flooding, ice jams, mud, grime, and unfrozen dog shit. In the summer, the entire state is apparently overrun with mosquitoes (35 different kinds?). And after summer, it starts getting real dark, real quick.  In December, Anchorage only gets around 5.5 hours of daylight (and it isn't really "daylight" as it's supposedly pretty dreary). I found out that Alaska has a pretty transient population - people who are there for a couple of years and then move somewhere else. I could see doing that. It seems like just the kind of place that would be the perfect "change of scenery." 

So, I'm not moving to Alaska just yet. I need to go back for a more pure skiing vacation to make a final decision. Anyone want to come with? If you need a little more convincing, here's the video:

Starting to get Interesting . . .

When you go skiing, what kind of terrain are you looking for? By that, I mean, what kind of stuff do you like to ski?

It seems like a great majority of the skiing public prefers groomed terrain, which I find to be kind of weird. I mean, think of the groomers on your local mountain.  Is there any real difference from one to the next? I mean, sure, maybe the pitch changes, maybe the aspect is different, and maybe the snow quality has some slight variation from one to the next. But, really, is your skiing experience going to be THAT much different if “Groomer A” is closed for the day, so you have to default to “Groomer B”? 

When I ski, I spend a lot of time looking for “Interesting” terrain. Interesting terrain could be anything from icy bumps, to a glade with ridiculously thin cover, to a terrain park, and everything in between. I’d rather the conditions be horrible and difficult, than easy and boring.

I was thinking about this today when I was thinking about my life. When it came time to make decisions in life, I always tried to make the easy and boring decision: go to school, get a job, buy a house, get married, etc. It’s like I was following everybody else, straight down crowded Groomer A. As things fall apart, I’m starting to think that maybe there’s more interesting stuff out there. 

Who says I have to follow the same path that everyone else is following? What if I want to duck into the trees for a while? What if I want to throw myself into the air, knowing that there’s a distinct possibility of a spectacular crash? What if I just want to get away from the freaking people on Groomer A?

The people are the worst! With their boring talk about how this trail is so great, and Groomer B is probably great too, let’s do that next, and then we’ll all reconvene at the end of the day and talk about how great our day was and we go home happy knowing that we all took the safe route, never experienced any risk, and didn’t fall all day.  Sure, there were tough spots, like that patch of ice on Groomer J, but we were proud of the way we handled that, and we all got through it safe and sound, and we all came away better for the experience.

Ugh. No thanks. But what about those people over there? What about those guys poaching that line under the lift? What about those shadows moving through the woods?  What about that dude hurling himself down that mogul field?  Ahhh, now these are the people I can relate to.  People who take chances, people who take risks, people who put themselves out there, knowing that it’s possible that they could fail, but even if they do, at least they’ll have an epic story to tell about it.

This is the kind of person I’m attracted to in life, as well.  Tell me about your crazy schemes, let me know about your harebrained ideas, tell me the story of how you took that chance in your life, and what happened as a result.  Give me your wild, your sure, your untroubled badasses yearning to freeski! People who choose their own path, and have better stories as a result. 

Because I really don’t want to hear another diatribe about how that snowboarder cut you off. I want to hear about that time your buddy almost got caught in that tree well.  I want to reminisce about that crazy cliff huck with the sketchy landing.  I want to relive that face shot, or soft spring corn bump field, or boost out of the pipe.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Matt, not everyone has the ability to do all that stuff you’re saying”. I know. Similarly, I have a job, a mortgage, a car loan, and a house.  I just can’t sell all my crap, and just start biking across the country with the clothes on my back, either. But you can take a chance.

Next time you’re skiing, do one thing that scares you. One thing different. One thing that’s not in your daily routine. Slide a box. Sample some snow in the woods. Hit a kicker. You might find that it leads to a whole new appreciation for life outside of the same old groomer. 

I’m going to Alaska this spring. It might be horrible, it might end catastrophically, and it might send me running back to New York with my tail between my legs. But it’s possible that it’ll be the best trip I’ve ever done. I might have the time of my life. This trip could open me up to an entire life that I never even considered before.  And just knowing that makes it worth the risk.

It’s time to choose a new trail.

Passion

I’ve been thinking a lot about “passion.” What is it that makes someone passionate? How do we increase passion? Why do we lose our passion? Who are the most passionate people we know? What are they passionate about, and why are they so passionate about it?

Some of the most passionate skiers I’ve met are people who came to the sport later in life. I don’t know if it’s about “making up for lost time”, or just trying to get better at a new sport, but a lot of people who started skiing in their 30s, 40s, or 50s are out there every time I’m at the mountain – learning, evolving, progressing. When they feel like they’ve gone as far as they can go, they take a lesson to try to move up to the next level. When they have an injury or a setback, they come back from it even stronger than before. They start out as non skiers, move on to become gapers, progress further to become average weekend warriors, and then start touching the higher echelons of the sport.

I feel like I’m going through this evolution with mountain biking. The first time we went, Ace and I looked at each other and said “Is this what mountain biking is like?” “It’s so hard!” “Why are we so bruised and broken?” But, for some reason, we kept at it. Now, I feel like I have really developed a "passion" for it. When I see a tough section, instead of looking at it with dread and despair, I see it as a challenge. I want to be good enough to ride it. I want to be stronger, too. Road bike rides have gone from a way to get exercise to mountain bike-specific muscle training. I’ve been reading books and watching instructional videos trying to refine technique.

But WHY? Why do some people develop a passion for something, and other people find it to be just another enjoyable activity? After our first ride, Ace and I could’ve just said “That was fun”, and relaxed for a couple of months – similar to the people who ski once or twice a year, put the skis away, and move on to other things. But we didn’t do that. We rode again later that week. And twice the next week. And three times the week after that. Now, we ride our mountain bikes every weekend and a couple of times during the week – just like skiing.

I was thinking about this when I read an article on the Independent Fabrication Custom Bicycles blog. After recounting a harrowing crash during a 214 km “Gentleman’s Race”, the author (“G.”) spends some time in a hospital and reflects on why people push themselves the way they do. What is it that drives people (especially those in the industry)?

In my career in the outdoor and bike industries I've observed two types of folks: those that are in the space, and those that are of the space. Those that are in the space are there because at one point they may have been active participants in the sport, or they may have just been intrigued by the equipment or allure of the sport overall, but for these folks it is just the way that they make their living, not the way that they live their life.

Those that are truly of the space are a different breed, and I would argue more successful for it. They are there because it is the way they choose to live their life, and the making a living part is a gift with purchase... the marriage of passion with purpose.

I may have reached the point where more often than not I am going to be the slow man, but I refuse to give up and just be in the space. If I don't actively participate, meaning if I don't actually ride, and try to ride as hard as I can, then I am not truly of the space. My purpose will lack passion, and I might as well go do something more lucrative.

And so, I will get back on the bike as soon as I can, albeit with a new helmet, and still unwilling to accept my role as the slow man.

To truly be “of the space”, you have to have passion. Drive. Desire. After 25 years of skiing, I still have that passion. I still pore over trip reports and watch ski movies (I even put one on the other day after I couldn’t find anything on television). I still get a rush on the first skiing day of the season. I still want to get better, go bigger, and push harder. When I get to a ski area, I not only want to be “of the space”, I want to start expanding to fill the space.

I was at Sugarloaf one day in 1999 or so and Jonny Moseley showed up, fresh from his gold in the 1998 Olympics. By the end of the day, almost every kid at the mountain from age 6-16 was skiing with him. Moseley in front, huge pack of kids behind him, huge group of parents behind them. It was great! Glen Plake gets the same kind of posse when he goes on his Down Home Tours. When you are truly “of the space”, it’s not only about personal growth and personal development; it’s about inspiring others to live the dream, too (whether through instruction, blogging, or just general radness).

Passion is a strange thing. It launches careers. It fuels relationships. It drives Mother Theresa, and it drives suicide bombers. It’s not a little flicker of interest. It’s not even a fire inside. It’s a full blown inferno that can’t be extinguished. But sometimes, it does get extinguished. How do we keep it up? If we have to be “of the space”, what happens when we no longer like the space we’re in? When we want to move on to a different space?

I guess I don’t have all the answers. I just know that if I ever had to quit skiing, I’d have a hard time figuring out what do with myself through the winter. There are certain feelings that you get when you’re skiing that you can’t get anywhere else. It makes me want to do whatever it takes to repeat those feelings. I don’t think the passion could ever just go away. I haven’t really developed that sense from mountain biking yet, so I guess I’m not as ultra-passionate about that.

I mean, seriously. It’s June and I’m already watching ski movies . . . It’s going to be a long summer.

Choice

I have over 500 channels on my cable TV. Actually, I have over 1800, but a bunch of those are sports package channels, music channels, and HD duplicate channels. I'm not picky, so I watch everything from ESPN to the Style Network, The History Channel to E!. I get HBO. I have Netflix movies delivered to my house. I can get movies and television shows through my cable box, my Xbox, and my laptop. And what do I do every night? I flip through each channel, browse each movie source, and decide that there is absolutely nothing that I want to watch. I usually settle on the Mets game (which is invariably disappointing).

I only mention this because I've been thinking about choice. More specifically, I've been asking myself why, when I have so many options in my life (TV options, movie theater options, weekend vacation options), why I still feel like I need more. When I scroll by the Showtime (a channel I don't get), sometimes I see a movie that I'd like to watch, and I briefly contemplate purchasing Showtime. Today, while watching the Tour of California, I contemplated trying to hook up an antenna so I could get the Universal Sports feed of the Giro d'Italia. Every week, Ace and I try to use a pair of free movie tickets that we have, and every week we decide that there's nothing in the theaters that's worth watching. Every time I try to decide what to do on the weekend, I look at some options and decide that I want to do other things. I wish that I lived in Colorado so that I could mountain bike Fruita, or ski A-basin.

All of this leads to the "Paradox of Choice", which is really nicely described in this Youtube video (but it is long, so I summarize the main points below):



The Professor at Swarthmore College explains that there are four ways that more choices actually make us less happy:

1. It produces paralysis, rather than liberation. With so many options to choose from, people find it very difficult to choose at all.

2. Even if we manage to overcome the paralysis and make a choice, we end up less satisfied with the result of the choice than we would be if we had fewer options to choose from.

3. Escalation of Expectations

4. When people make decisions, and even though the results of the decisions are good, they feel disappointed about them - They blame themselves.

The reason that I've been looking at this sort of stuff is this: I'm thinking of buying another bike. And I'm getting paralyzed by the decision. I don't even know what type of bike I want. Some friends want to do a lot of downhill biking this summer (at Whiteface, Plattekill, etc.), so I was thinking of getting a cheap craigslist dh bike that I can throw on the back of a lift, in the bottom of a shuttle bus, or off a rock drop, and not care about it.

Other times, like today on my short little bike ride around the neighborhood (just trying to get something in before I got rained on again), I want something more along the lines of a "Gravel Grinder". I came upon this path:

Whenever I'm on my road bike, and I see a path like that, I always want to take it to see where it goes. But my skinny little road bike tires can't handle it. I'd also like to get into "bikepacking", and a gravel grinder that could fit 29x2.0 tires would be perfect for something like the GDMBR. I keep on looking at the Origin 8 CX700, a cross frame built for touring, durability, and 29x2.1 tires.

Still other times, I want a sweet 29er singlespeed that I can convert to a geared bike for races and bikepacking. I was thinking about this when I was in Ellicottville for work last week (from what I hear, PRIME mountain bike territory). I couldn't jam my enormous full suspension 29er into my little office car, so I didn't get to ride while I was out there. But if I had a nice, simple singlespeed like a Niner SIR 9, especially one like this with S&S couplers, I could fit it into my work vehicle, or into a plane to go visit my bother and ride Sedona, or into a train for a European bike adventure, etc.

And the worst part of all of this is: I don't need a bike. I have a perfectly good road bike, and a perfectly good mountain bike. And here, the paradox of choice will work twice:

First, I will become paralyzed with all of these bike choices. When I finally choose my bike, I will inevitably be disappointed when I can't do all the things that I could've had I made a different choice (if I get the singlespeed, I won't be able to use it at Whiteface, so I'll have to rent). Then I'll blame myself for having to pay the $80 for renting.

Then, if I do end up getting a bike, I'll have to go through a stupid choice every time I ride. Should I go road biking or mountain biking? What about a mix? Maybe I'll take the gravel grinder out for some doubletrack. But when I get on to some trails, and I start having all sorts of fun, I'll wish I brought the mountain bike so I could hit more technical trails, and I'll blame myself for making the wrong decision.

Ugh.

So, after thinking about it for a little while, I bought . . . One new tire for my mountain bike. Now should I put it on the front wheel or the back? Hmmmmm . . . .

The Secret to Happiness (May not be Transferable)

Every once in a while I like to take a step back and look at where I am in my life, what I’m doing, where I want to be in my life, and what I want to do. I was saying last night that, ultimately, the only person responsible for your happiness is you. So you have to take whatever steps are necessary to get yourself in a happy place. And I’m in a pretty happy place right now.

Sure, there are some problems: my house is looking a little haggard, my car still needs $1000 worth of repairs to fix some wheel sensors, my bank account is depressingly lacking in funds. But I am feeling pretty optimistic about the next few years. I’m not a religious guy, but I think I’ve stumbled onto a pretty good life fulfillment strategy. It may not work for everyone, but it works for me. Here’s how it goes:

1. Do cool things with cool people
2. Remember the good times
3. Plan the next adventure

That’s it. If you’re lucky (like I am), your family is a composed of a group of cool people that you like doing things with - especially your kick ass wife. If you’re REALLY lucky, your job consists of doing cool things with cool people (I’m pretty damn close, but not completely there). But it’s definitely acceptable to do your cool things in your free time, too (and use the work days to recover). And I recognize that life isn’t always rainbows and lollipops, but there’s no harm in trying to put more of that good stuff in your life. Some guy known as “Uncle Dan”, whose blog is here, talks about when he started mountain biking:

I started meeting some great people on the trails, in the bike shops and mainly at the trailheads. About 90% of them had this crazy gleam in their eyes and all shared a passion for life that I was not used to. Its kind of like hanging out at a ski resort . . . where everyone is there to have a good time, nobody is lazy, and for the most part everyone is in a good mood and getting along with everyone else - yea, that.

I truly believe that’s how life should feel all the time (or at least most of the time). As for #2, I believe that it logically follows #1: If you’re going to do all this cool stuff, at least remember all the stuff you did. I, for one, have a terrible memory. So photography, blogging, and late night drunken story telling are great ways to relive the awesome times I had. Even though Bruce Springsteen sings that he hopes he doesn’t sit around talking about his “Glory Days”, he admits that he probably will. And that’s okay. Check out this post about Alaska on Adventure Journal:

The land is alive with history — my history. Visiting one island, I still see the 25-year-old kid I used to be, running down a deer trail and arriving breathless on a beach, just in time to see my first breaching whale. Near one of the glaciers, I recall when collapsing ice sent out unusually big waves that nearly stripped me from the shore as I clung to a rocky ledge. There’s the ice-peppered bay where my wife and I were married on a boat among our closest friends and family. With so much history here, I feel like the place owns me.

That’s why I’m enjoying photography so much. As I look back on my pictures, I want to feel the feelings I had when they were taken (whatever those feelings were): Happiness, Relaxation, Exhaustion, Elation, Gratitude, etc. As for #3, that’s just to keep me from being sedate. It’s so easy in this world to fall into a routine: Get up, work, go back to bed, repeat. I want new experiences. I want to go places I’ve never been, taste things I’ve never tried, do things I’ve never done. #3 is about looking towards the horizon, putting your toes in the surf, and then diving in (no matter how much of a shock the cold water is). It’s about getting off the couch, getting outside, and doing something. Here’s some inspiration from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

These blog posts are my footprints. Enjoy the walk.

Sugarbush PSIA Exam (Day 2)

I made it. I am now a PSIA Level 3 Certified Skier in Telemark Skiing (and Alpine, which I did in 2008).

I have to say, after going through several other exams in my 10 year ski instructing career, I thought I would feel the same way after this test as I did after my Level 3 Alpine exam.  But I felt completely different.  It was weird, really.  On my Alpine exams, and earlier Tele exams, I almost felt entitled to the pins (pins being the awards given out in PSIA - Bronze for Level 1, Silver for Level 2, and Gold for Level 3).  Maybe "entitled" isn't the right word, but I felt as if I was skiing and teaching at a ridiculously high level, and that I deserved everything that I was getting and more. I was actually waiting for them to just dispense with the formalities and start promoting me to higher and higher posts in the organization simply because of my awesomeness.

Okay, maybe I wasn't that crazy about it, but I did have a certain attitude about everything.  On Sunday, it was completely different.  After the exam, I skied an extra run and started talking about how I've changed as an instructor and as a person.  Instead of arguing one side to the death, I've started trying to see the other side.  Instead of taking issue, I've started letting things slide.  Instead of making definitive statements, I've started to ask more questions.  Maybe it's partly because I'm getting older and wiser, or maybe it's because of experiences like the one I had on Sunday.

In addition to the two Level 3 candidates in my group, there were three candidates for the Development Team (above Level 3 and at the point where they would be instructing other instructors). Over the course of the two days, each was able to affect my skiing in a positive way.  If I hadn't been open to their teaching, I never would have had the breakthroughs that I had.  Whether it was driving my lead leg around the bottom of a bump, matching my hands to the pitch of the hill more, or slowing everything down to really feel my releasing movements, every one of the Dev Team candidates helped my tele technique.

But that's not the only reason that I felt different this time around.  The Nordic PSIA examiners are a little more . . . umm . . . expressive than the Alpine Examiners.  I feel like they wear their heart on their sleeve a little bit more.  They really want you to do well.  And you end up wanting to do well not just for yourself, but for all of those guys (who've helped you get there).  When they finally read my name and I looked at Mark and Mickey, I felt something that was a far cry from the feeling I had when I got my Alpine level 3. It was a feeling that can only come after you've been built up, knocked down, and built back up again.  A feeling that doesn't say "It's about time", but instead shows what all of their time was about. A feeling that seems to be increasingly rare (but desperately needed) in the world today:

Gratitude.       

Never Stop Exploring?

I really enjoyed this post from Heidi Swift about bicycle touring.  Tidbit:

Riding a loaded touring bike seems valiant or poetic, but it’s a voluntary act made (oftentimes) by privileged people who are searching for something that they can’t find at home: simplicity, detachment, clarity. You leave everything you own behind and pack a small selection of essentials into a few bags. Then you tow them and, somehow, the weight yields an internal lightness. It’s a startling inversion. It’s a trick of the mind.  

The real work of touring starts when you come home and stand in front of your kingdom and try to figure out what it means and why you left it.

It seems like a battle is constantly waging with outdoorsy people who live in the city (or in my case, suburbs).  It doesn’t need to evolve over a multiday bike tour either.  Every weekend, we drive hundreds of miles and spend hundreds of dollars to escape the “drudgery” of everyday life.  For a few fleeting moments, we forget about mortgages, bills, and responsibilities.  We’re focused on skiing (or biking, or ice climbing, etc.).  We’re into the moment, and we celebrate afterwards.  Then when we get back home, we slip back into the same routines.  Wake up, go to work, come home, make dinner, watch TV, go to bed, repeat.  Boredom. Monotony. Stasis. 

But if “routine” is the worst of all possible worlds, then what is the best?  Is it a non-stop bicycle tour with your entire family from the northern tip of Alaska to the southern tip of Argentina ? Is it an “all-in” non stop trek of the Appalachian Trail, North Country Trail, Great Divide Route, and Pacific Coast Trails? Is it a sail around the world on an old sailboat (looks pretty good to me)?  Is the key to enlightenment actually a clothing company tagline (“Never Stop Exploring”)?

Personally, I don’t think I was ever cut out to be a nomad.  I like to have a home, and a sense of place.  I like to go out to bars, watch baseball games, and grill meat on my back porch.  I like warm showers and down comforters and cold beer.  In fact, I always find that the best meal of a multiday camping trip is the one you have when you return to civilization.  While I might never stop exploring, I’m okay with taking a break every once in a while.  Heidi, who seems to have somehow turned this “blogging” thing into a career, comes to the same conclusion:

In my case, I try to figure out why I always want to leave it again and again. At the same time, cradled in the expanse of a soft king bed, flanked by cats that have become temporarily affectionate due to their perceived near-abandonment, I know with exacting clarity how my home can be both shifting and static.

I guess it’s about balance. Unfortunately, I feel like my balance has shifted too far towards the safe, boring, routine side of things. It’s time to set sail.