When I was still relatively new to living in Jackson, Wyoming, I remember snowboarding with a training clinic for work toward the beginning of our winter season. I still wasn’t used to riding with the Tetons as my backdrop.
We were drilling on the technically proficient way to ride moguls—as instructors—to ensure we could demonstrate it effectively and talk comfortably about the technique with clients. It was kind of a gray day, not unlike the type I knew from the East Coast, where I grew up. Even though this was early season, there was still more grip on the snow than the icy slopes I was used to. Plus, I was getting paid to practice snowboarding... and I liked riding moguls. Because of those slick and slippery conditions back home, I’d learned to navigate moguls by using a kind of swishing motion. A tail-rudder, if you will. I was good at it. And I could do it while both hauling ass and staying in control. But, I was definitely not “dialed,” as they say—not by the standards used for the certification board we were training for.
There was a group of us riding together that day.
We took turns demoing and swapping feedback. We’re standing there on the side of the slope doing a lot of talking about how to position your body when riding moguls. Where to initiate the turn, when to transfer your weight, how to exaggerate it so the board will respond visibly enough for onlookers to notice.
I remember thinking how dumb it was that there was only one correct way of doing that. According to the cert standards, anyway.
At one point, while we’re stopped above a pitch of bumps, someone else in the group pulled me aside while everyone began to ride. She glided her way in front of me and slowed to a stop. After popping her goggles up on her helmet, she looked at me with a smirk.
“You rip” she said.
Oh shit!
That meant a lot coming from her. She already had the cert I’d be testing for and she was really, really good. With her mittens held together in front of her, she looked past me, uphill, to check if anyone was coming before turning her gaze back to meet mine. Her eyes were playful. She stood there with her posture relaxed, but I could sense there was more coming.
“Look—if you don’t play ball and ride the way they want, you won’t pass.”
Uh...
Oh, shit.
“They’ll fail you” she went on.
“You don’t have to ride like this all the time, but there’s a time and place for it...” she trailed off. “And it’s now.”
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
345/365
Do you “play ball” when you need to, if it means reaching your goals?
Why or why not?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory.
Sign up to get it here.