Hands down, being a ski instructor is the most gratifying work I have done in the 45ish working years of my life. My professional life paid my bills and supported the lives of my small staff but seemed more of a means to an end.
I enjoyed and was even fulfilled in both of my careers as an insurance broker and small biz owner. Sales is my niche, and getting people to buy from me was my strategy. It built 2 successful businesses.
When I left Chicago and returned to Michigan, I knew if I didn’t do something regularly that got me outside in the winter, the walls surrounding me would crumble. I skied most of my life and was on the ski team in high school, so well, here I am.
Despite freezing my ass off at times or sweating through layers of clothes on others, I FRICKIN LOVE IT! The rare frostbite on my nose (2 times), being drenched from the rain or pounded by a blizzard (too many times to count), is all in a day’s work.
I have encountered -25 degrees Fahrenheit, cowered in 30 mph winds strong enough to blow you back up the hill and basked in the beauty of the rare winter sun.
Northern Michigan winter weather runs the gamut.
There are times when I am so cold, I can’t take my ski boots off, or think, or formulate words, and yet we who love what we do, endure and persevere because WE FRICKIN LOVE IT!
I have wiped tears and green boogers and gotten adults out of their heads and onto their skis. On the busiest days, I teach 7 hours of private lessons with a short 20ish minute break for a few bites of food, a warm-up and the bathroom.
I try not to drink too many fluids because the bathroom is an elusive warm place one can only dream about, and yet we who love what we do, endure and persevere because WE FRICKIN LOVE IT!
Why succumb to such absurdity, you ask?
Because the experience changed my life. I suppose if you share a similar passion for your endeavors a familiar result will occur, but I haven’t found it. Writing is close, but the gratification is delayed and sporadic.
Mostly, I teach children, 75-80% of the time and the remaining lessons are adults fine tuning skills or embracing a new sport for the first time.
The kids are so moldable and eager to have fun, they thrive quickly. The magic hula hoop, snow fairy’s cave, snow fairy’s dust, beads, glades, and Petoskey stones have all served me well. Powder penguins, box bunnies, turning turtles, and edging eagles find their way into the teaching fundamentals.
I ski with my favorite littles multiple times a season for consecutive seasons. It’s so gratifying to watch them grow and improve.
The adults range in skill and age. I am always impressed by their collective fortitude and willingness to overcome fears – heights, chairlifts, crazies straight lining down the hill, or just stepping out of their comfort zone.
One experience left an indelible impression that I will never forget. I was so humbled; tears found their way down my cheeks.
In February of 2021 I spent a week with 2 amazing people that exhibited such humility. Grace, we will call her, and her husband skied at Boyne Highlands (now The Highlands at Harbor Springs) for 25 years until she developed progressive dementia.
Taught to ski by a Highlands legend, BJ who passed away suddenly 5 yrs prior, she took lessons each season and developed a lasting and enduring friendship with he and his wife, Annie.
According to Grace’s husband, on one of her more lucid days she proclaimed the desire to ski again. They made the 10 hour drive from their home to spend a week skiing and I was the lucky chosen one.
Grace was 73 years old and skied proficiently for the better part of her life. We spent 2 hours a day for 5 days together. Our lessons were from 11-1 (not a standard booking window) to accommodate the time her husband needed to get her ready; awake, fed and dressed for skiing took 2 hours each morning. He sacrificed his time on the slopes to ensure she could have this moment.
We went back to square one.
For 5 days, each time we stepped on the snow it was as if it was her first time. To load the moving carpet (conveyor belt designed for uphill transport), I took off my skis, locked my arm in hers to maintain her balance, and walked beside her while she rode, not standard protocol.
As we made our way, she needed reassurance about how we would get to the top, how to exit, and which direction we should turn. From one ride to the next she didn’t remember.
Her unwavering determination and commitment to persevere as well as her husband’s selfless devotion left me virtually inconsolable the first day.
Her muscle memory, understanding of the moving carpet, ability to make a wedge, turn, or even keep her balance were all things she relearned every single time we went up and down the hill.
It is truly the most humbling experience of my life. Her husband warned me from one day to the next, she may not return, but she did each day with the full desire to do it again.
I am grateful to have shared that time with her and to witness the patient selflessness of her husband. It was truly remarkable. I haven’t seen them sense then, but hope Grace is ripping down the hill in her dreams.
Humility is a powerful gift.
Honoring Grace, next time you feel the urge to complain, inhale deeply and find gratitude. It is quite humbling.
This is why I succumb to such absurdity. I endure the cold and persevere for everyone that crosses my path, especially people like Grace because I FRICKIN LOVE IT.
Ski ya later allegator.
#SkiLikeAGirl
