No Safety Net, No Internet: First Run

Snow, Psychic Synchronicity, Skiing and Running Riot

My daughter captured us in this very cool pic in 2021. The three of us love skiing together.

First of all I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Heneka, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year. It’s been an interesting six months of Cultural Courage, and I hope you and your families have had a blessed holiday.

I love the winter, and I wish December were 3-4 weeks longer, there are so many theme photos I had picked out for this month. Each month my family have had the luck of having some type of outdoor adventure. As a Capricorn I think I’m wired for the winter months, and growing up in the Catskills ensured that I had real winters. My mother, raised in small mountain village had this sense of weather, I’m not going to call it witchcraft, but with all the sayings and rules, her logic of nature was pretty uncanny. I remember when she said to me when I was 8 or 9 “If the first snow rains off before Christmas, each snow will rain off and you won’t have much good snow.” I think I told her “stop saying that”, because I knew she was going to be right. And she was.

First Run

I am whole again, recharged after the First Run of the ski season yesterday. Each time I go I feel 15 years younger, I know it sounds dumb, but the challenge at my age of 58 is to keep pushing myself. When I close my eyes the after images of skiing as a kid and in more recent years with my own kids can be summoned more easily than other memories, I’m wired for it. With my kids grown now they have their own plans for holiday, so I went solo. My favorite spot for skiing in Michigan is Caber Fae Peaks, just outside of Cadillac, as my son and I have spent many ski seasons there when he was a Boy Scout. I have been chased, pounded with snow balls and had a lot of good times with my son and his friends, and the facility is geared towards family outings with a lodge where we would have crockpots of soup and chili simmering as we skied all day long.

Snapping on the skis is considered mundane, routine. But yesterday I got thinking about it differently as I was getting ready to get on the ski lift to start the season. The habit - a ritual in some respects - is to slap the sides boot twice to shake of excess snow, square the toe under the lip, plant the ankle and on the ski snaps. The sound of it setting is a solid lock, you can tell by the sound itself when the binding and locked properly.

With that firm click, your feet have just grown, as your toe is now up at the tip of your ski. It’s a part of you that you have to move, just project out toward the tip of the ski and it helps you move about. Think toe of the ski, not toe in your boot.

And as I got thinking about that I recalled the very first time I took my son skiing and trying to teach him how to snap on the skis. There’s a lot to learn when you first start, and one of the big mistakes is you cross your skis and struggle to separate them and lift. You can see it when kids and beginners first strap, glide a feet, cross them, then fall over as they struggle to get uncrossed. And you will fall, it’s inevitable. Embrace it.

If I were to go back now to teach him again, I would have started differently. If you fall you need to get back up, the hill can work against you when the slope is steep. For whatever reason not a lot of time is spent of learning to just pop them off, move to a better spot, put them one. Kids have different speeds, some are good at righting themselves, others need other strategies. But there is no shame in popping them off. My son was slower to get it than my daughter that morning . I have to admit I got impatient with him because he didn’t want to plant his heel hard. It was my fault because I took him to a beginner hill when we should have spent more time on they bunny hill. In the back of my head I knew I was moving him at a pace not his liking, but I figured he’d get the hang of it.

In retrospect I should have spent more time having him just sit on his butt or better yet, gently push him over so he could get a feel for dealing with the skis without the worry of being on the hill and all the other fears the first time out can bring to mind. My first time, the toe rope caused me all sort of trouble, I fell, it kept going with people coming from behind and I was stuck, in the way. I kept trying to get up, grab the toe rope and my ski came off. But I had conveniently forgotten that after I just learned to handle the skis and spills.

That first time skiing for my son, starting with tears of frustration on his part, ended well as he got the hang of controlling his turns. He was more cautious than his sister. But for some reason as I watched him I knew he’d perhaps found something he could enjoy for a long time.

A month later in January, we went with our scout troop on his first “Ski Trip”. Before hand I told him to take another lesson with his buddies and that way he’d get a refresher and would have a group to ski with once they were unleashed on the runs. The newbies had their lesson while we dads hit the slopes and we gathered for an early lunch. One of the boys came to me and said my son was sick in the bathroom.

There are times as a parent where you just know what is going on without having to ask. You know your kids and so your instinct is pretty well tuned. The hill where they conduct beginner lessons faces the chair lift that gets you up the north side of the mountain. At the time, Caber Fae had a very old wooden chair lift with no safety bar. The thought popped in my head that perhaps my son was getting a little freaked out about the “rickety” chair lift. It was perfectly safe, but it was something from 1950s.

When I came into the bathroom, I called out my son’s name, and he came out of the stall, upset. He had thrown up. It was one of those forks in the road a kid sometimes faces, some are self imposed and some are indeed circumstances beyond their control. But in this case if he didn’t face the self imposed fear, he would have a much harder time with things that weren’t within his power to navigate.

“Let’s go, your friends are heading out.”

“I feel sick,” he said looking ashamed.

“You’ll feel better with the fresh air. Let’s go. I’ll go up with you, then I want you to go with your friends.”

With gear on, we got in line. The closer it came to our turn, the bigger the tears in his eyes grew. While I let people pass us, I told him we weren’t getting out of line. It took almost 45 minutes to talk him onto the lift.

I got him on, and during the first run down, he fell a few times, but it was no big deal, so we kept going. When we hit the chair lift, some of his friends were waiting in line.

He enthusiastically joined them without even saying “See ya”, and I didn’t see him for the rest of afternoon.

Years later we were riding the gondola at Belleayare Mountain and he thanked me for pushing him. He’s a great skier, far better than I ever was. Moves like stiletto, making long and graceful sweeping arcs on that slope. Smooth, unrattled. Like his personality has grown to be.

We’re Not Hard Core, But If You Don’t Move, You’ll Feel Like You’re Dying

There’s a point as a parent when you realize that your kids have boundless energy, and you have to do extra duty to keep up. The ski adventures grew in length and difficulty, which kept me on my toes and trying to stay in shape. And the day after the First Runs sometimes were painful. Despite keeping in good condition, you do use different muscles when skiing than biking or running. If you don’t ache after that first day you haven’t done it right.

But lovely my wife, sitting out the ski days, demands that we go on hikes with her the next day immediately after. While it is fair to her, there is another reason. My daughter admitted to me that the hikes were crucial for recovery after First Run. So it’s become a ritual for us when we are out in the Catskills to trek somewhere after a long day on the slopes. The kids complained the first time, but as they got older they have been the ones to force us out in the cold. It helps walk off the stiff legs, and get us ready for the next run. Out in the country where my parents live, the Susquehanna meanders through the valley, that’s the river you see in the photos. The trains no longer run that route, so we follow the tracks to Cooperstown. It’s 6 miles in to my sister’s home. Another First Time event that became a ritual for us over the years.

And as my kids got older, we sought out other out of the norm things to do. And the conversations during those times have been so special. I don’t think we would have had the same discussions if we weren’t out and about. Many of this month’s Cultural Courage photos have been from those times. The building below is the Overlook Mountain Hotel, another destination for a hike on Christmas Eve day that my wife started us on. Overlook Mountain looms over Woodstock, and due my parents having Covid we had to alter plans that year. Somehow we still got a place late last minute, and it turned out to be one of our more memorable spontaneous adventures as a family.

Passing On a Fire That Burns Across Generations

Over the years my son and I have had our own father / son ski outings, and when he turned 18, we had time out east in my old stomping grounds. By this time I was trying to keep up with him, but 18 year olds are young bloods for good reason, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed to acknowledge some of my limits as I had aged. That still hasn’t quite set in yet, but the end is the same for all of us. But it’s how you spend the time you do have.

“Dad, I’m doing Hellgate and Upper Crossover”, and off he went. Those are double black diamonds, and can be treacherous.

Recovering from an injury from the previous year, I took an alternate route, yet beat him to the bottom of the hill. Strange. I waited for him at the lift, then heard him call out.

He pulled up grinning ear to ear.

And his chin was swollen. Dudley Doo-Right chin. He had frozen blood on his chin and coat. “It was great! I wiped out, but I still conquered it.”

He had just had another First Run, of a different type. He needed to do it alone, and the adrenaline was radiating off him. Higher than a kite. Addicted to that rush you have when you’re young and love the speed on the skis. Still grinning despite having wiped out and taking a knee to the jaw. Later that day as we packed up to leave, I could sense something different about him.

“Hey”, I asked, “do you feel any different after that run? You’re still high on that, aren’t you.”

A grin was the only confirmation I got.

Snow and Psychic Synchronicity

The lift rides are also are part a good ski experience. You share the chair with other people and trade stories. Sometimes you give tips to people starting out, our new to the trails, and sometimes you get good intel on other destinations to try. One ride up I struck up a conversation with another dad about my age who had the same experience with his family. He mentioned Blue Mountain as an alternative, but that is farther north up near Toronto. I filed that away.

Later I was getting coffee and soup before heading back, and I got to thinking about my son’s ski trip he’s planned with this school buddies. While I missed his companionship yesterday, he has a lot on his plate for the holiday, and I’m happy he’s got something lined up. For some reason one of his friends from school who broke his collar bone while skiing came to mind. I hadn’t hear my son mention him in a while. I filed that away too.

Life is weird. I mentioned earlier that my mom was in tune with things, and you have to admit that life can have a synchronicity if you catch the details. On the drive back I called my son to report the ski conditions from our old stomping ground.

“Hey Dad, guess what? Nino called, he and his family invited me to go to Blue Mountain.”

Mountain magic? Psychic Snow Synchronicity? I do see a future with him and his son skiing, I hope I’m still able to enjoy that with them.

Run Riot

There is something to be said for staying warm and comfortable by the Christmas tree at night. But we venture out because it’s good to purge that Severed Conscience you pick up from social media and too much screen time.

That means you gotta Run Riot. I realized last night that Def Leppard may be the bubble gum version of metal from the 80s, but on the long car trips back home tunes keep you awake. But the lyrics, simple as they are, capture the spirit of what you have to spare. Yeah, it’s Dad Rock, get over it. That Dad Rock gets people up, out and motivated when I’m around to hear it. And there is no First Run without nostalgia.

They lock me up
They let me out
But I'm up and runnin'
I scream and shout

Get up, break out
Don't be the odd one out
Come on, it's alright
We're hot tonight

You better run (run, run riot)
You gotta run (run, run riot)
You know the time has come
(Run, run riot) come on, run with me

Hey, I'll take you from your misery
Come on, stick with me

It’s good to come back, so tired that you sleep like a dog. And the next day of aches isn’t so bad. It’s part of the First Run ritual. So as long as you can, Run Riot.