Despite the lack of snow in New England this season, winter time is upon us and the highways headed north are still packed on a Friday afternoon. Parking lots are still hopelessly over-capacitated and this, of course, means the slopes are too. It’s time to cue the sweet symphony of Boston accents shouting for their families across the lodge.
Growing up skiing at any mountain in the region teaches quite valuable lessons. We are taught a mental balance of both patience and assertiveness by waiting in crowded chairlift lines. Remaining patient when standing at the back of the lift line with a hundred people packed around you is crucial. It’s understood that when “front row” is called, you will only move two feet forward and have to stay calm as the ski-school takes priority and cuts the line.
It takes time to learn how to combat your frustration when the chairlift stops and you can’t see a logical reason why. Presumably, a beginner has fallen getting off at the top and you will momentarily regret not taking a different lift.
This reinforces life’s lesson that patience is definitely key if you want to make it to the top (of the mountain, of course). At the same time, this patience must be balanced with proper assertiveness. When you finally get to the front and the lift operator shouts “front row,” it’s necessary to hustle your way out and assure no one sneaks in front of you. That small spot in line is your territory and if you don’t claim it, the jean-wearing vacationers next to you will.
In kindergarten, we learn that sharing is caring, but the concept is actually applied over February break when every square inch of each trail is covered with people. What sounds cozier than cuddling up to a thousand beginners on a narrow green circle? Each run is a perfect concoction of ski school tots lined up like dominoes, families skiing side-by-side, speedy racers, and novice snowboarders unsure of how to stop. We are taught to share our snow, maneuver around each other, and peacefully coexist.
Most importantly, we are taught since life is full of surprises, then so are the conditions of a trail. The lesson in this is to always be prepared. Turn the corner to find a sheet of ice? Okay. Flat light hid the clumps of snow? No problem. Although ice is notoriously complained about, everyone learning to ski in the Northeast is a more composed and aware skier because of it. Ice has taught us to handle surprise situations rationally. Go forth in life knowing there will always be icy patches taking you by surprise. If you remain calm and carry on straight ahead, you’ll get past it. Who knew a day on the hill was so insightful?
Lastly is the added bonus of powder appreciation. It’s not common we wake up to fresh snow blanketing the trails, so on the rare occasion we do, the drive for first tracks is nearly instinctual. We all enjoy a blissful day without the scratching sound of skis on sheer ice. On normal winter days, without new snowfall, you learn to adapt to “frozen granular” conditions. Embrace mediocrity and appreciate special occasions of greatness.
For those who grew up skiing in the Northeast, the things we endured can considerably be thoughtful metaphors. Time may take us out west to larger mountains and better snow, but the hills of New England have gone deeper in preparing us for life.
