I kept telling myself that the faster I could go down the
slope, the better I could control my turns and carve a clean line in the
snow. Over and over I tried to get
myself positioned to ride the skis in an exhilarating rush to the bottom. Over and over I was “ass over appetite”
upside down, sliding on my back with my skis in the air before finally stopping
and picking myself up out of the snow.
Thighs burning. Out of breath
from exertion.
My grandfather bought me a pair of skis and poles for my
thirteenth birthday in December of 1963.
The cable bindings held my laced-up leather boots snuggly to the skis
much like cross country skis. From our
set of Funk and Wagnall encyclopedias I learned about crow-footing and
side-edge climbing, the basic “snow plow” or “wedge” for controlling speed,
parallel skiing and turning. Luckily for
me, it snowed quite often that winter, and no one chased me off the golf course
when I was teaching myself these techniques.
Every ignominious slide down meant a long trek back up the hill. The nearest slope with a ski lift was
hundreds of miles away and way out of my budget.
I was out of college, married, and had kids before I ever
tried skiing on a mountain. The
self-instruction from so many years ago paid off, though, and the group lesson
I took was simply a refresher. It wasn’t
long before I was “whizzing” down those green slopes at Winter Park. I love to ski. I think about it almost every day no matter
what the season.
Every time the Winter Olympics return to television, I try
to watch as much of the ski competitions as possible. When I combine my own efforts on the slopes
with my imagination, I am awed by the abilities of those world-class athletes. My own abilities eventually enabled me to ski
Blues (Intermediate) slopes and some moguls with fair success, and I attempted
a few Blacks (Advanced) in my younger years.
I was even able to get to the point that I was going faster and faster
and zipping down the slopes with relative ease.
My most recent trip, just before my 63rd birthday, was
twenty-one years after the last one. I
took it easy, believe me.
Citius…this is the
first word in the slogan of the Modern Olympics. It means “faster” in Latin. For winter athletes this is more than a catch
phrase. Speed is generally the key
element in most of the sports (I have no idea what the deal is with
curling.). When you’re watching the
Olympics over the next couple of weeks, try to understand the element of speed.
Lindsey Vonn won’t be competing this year because of
injury. She was the USA’s best hope for
gold in Women’s Downhill. She fell. More than once. If you’ve ever skied, you’ve fallen
down. What’s the big deal? Think about this. The average speed for Alpine racing is around
80 mph. The average gradient is about
28%. That’s not far off vertical! Imagine going 80 mph down the stairs of the
Washington Monument…on skis…on icy snow…at 14,000 ft…in the wind…with the air
temperature at 20°F or
less…then falling down. How long would
it take you to stop? Speed skiers (a
variation on the sport) typically go 125 mph or more (the record is 156
mph—faster than a freefalling skydiver).
The average takeoff speed for a 737 is about 155 mph.
Skiing is just one of the sports
in the Winter Olympics, of course, but speed is a part of almost all of
them. Biathletes have to cross country
ski as fast as they can and then stop four times to fire a rifle. Speed skaters go in circles and turn so
sharply that those thin blades are carving turns while the skaters’ bodies are
almost parallel to the ice. Bobsled,
luge, and skeleton sliders are experiencing the g-forces faced by pilots and
astronauts. Try this one: when you’re
watching the ice dancing (come on, you know you do), get up and do three spins
across the room from one corner to the other.
When you can do that in a straight line, speed it up, tighten the spins,
and after the third one, leap into the air and come down on one foot. Now imagine doing that on a skate. To music.
At 20 mph.
Maybe we’d better join Bob Costas
and stick with curling because, “you should be able to drink a beer while
you’re competing for a gold medal.”
That’s more my speed.
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