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IN SKIING The skier had learned basic skills on the learning slope and now was trying out her first descent of a "regular" trail. But now there were other skiers and snowboarders whizzing past, the surface was irregular with steeper places and gentler ones and there was a rolling-ness to the contours, and the run seemed so long and she was so far away from the lodge, and the slope seemed so much steeper than the learning slope ('though it wasn't), and the lift ride to get to the top of this first green run passed over a double-black slope where seemingly crazy people were bobbing up and down as they skied so fast, and one fell in that scary place! "You must make the moves you have already learned," instructed her instructor, "to maintain control." Instead, as she turned her skis into the fall line they--and she--shot forward, her body frozen with fear, and she failed to pressure, edge, or turn her skis in a way they could continue taking her around the turn, and from there she raced down the hill gaining speed until it was too much. Fortunately the snow was soft and she was limber. "But why," mused her instructor, did she opt to shoot 50 yards down the hill out of control and take a fall rather than moving her body forward 4 inches?". And why do I, mused the instructor, when on a bumpy steep that is daunting to me, move reluctantly, too? The novice skier may have good reasons to be fearful in new skiing situatins. The expert skier, too, who has come upon a slope steeper, bumpier, narrower, rockier, etc., than attempted before is also likely to need to deal with the Fear Factor. Surely the most important word in Learning to Ski/Ski Better is a four-letter word. No, it is not a swear word, nor is it the word "Fear". It is the word, "MOVE". To make our skis do what we want, we must tip them, turn them, or pressure them and move in a way that causes the skis to give the results we desire. If we do not move our body so the skis get into a position that produces the outcomes we want, the skis will nevertheless be in some position and will do what they want. We communicate our intent to our skis by moving our body parts. Further, our movements must anticipate, not follow our skis. We must be proactive, although sometimes we will also be reactive as we readjust to some external force. We must look ahead and say to ourselves, "I am going there," and concurrently make the moves to get the skis set up to do so. If the slope gradient increases, we must tip the body farther down the hill; if the angle decreases, we must tip it less. If we want a tighter-radius turn, we must move the body parts faster; and if a longer-radius turn is our wish, then we must move the body parts at a slower pace. If we do not move, we are taken along for a ride over which gravity has control. There is a law in skiing: It is the law of gravity. How can we move if we are locked with fear? Skiing involves a great deal of "headwork", that is, we have to somehow convince our brains that the ways we want to move our body parts will get the skis to work for us. The problem is that our brains have been conditioned since birth that sliding can take us where we don't want to go, tipping down hills calls us to fall, and acceleration and speed can be followed by sudden impacts. Too, moving body parts in ways that skiers do is not normal for humans, and so learned "muscle memory" kicks in and we override the proper ways to move with more familiar patterns that do not work as well or at all. And that is why in learning to ski, we make progress in small increments as our brains learn that new patterns of movement of our body parts work better than old ones. In 1983, Horst Abrams released his book Skiing Right. This book was not about skiing technique; it was a book about use of the right side of the brain to ski well. Similar books came out in that era, too: The Inner Game of Tennis and The Inner Game of Skiing, for research had shown that the two hemispheres of the human brain perform separate functions. The right side of the brain is the rhythm or emotional side, whereas the left side is the technical or technique side. To ski, we must train both sides. Abrams presents some techniques to get the right side up to speed so it does not inhibit the left side--or is it to get the left side subdued a bit so that our right sides allow us to enjoy? One method he suggested is to pretend you are an animal that has the character you want to ski with. A fearless animal might be a lion. A graceful animal might be a bird. An animal with rhythm might be a river otter. Probably you would not want to ski like a dove or an ant or a clam! This author recalls a bump-skiing clinic in which the clinic leader would pause at the top of a double-black diamond bump run, scout out a line, and then raise his hands and ski poles into a position as though gripped on handlebars of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, begin twisting his wrists as though accelerating a motor, then pumping one ski up and down while saying, "Rmmm, Rmmm, Rmmm" and then dashing off into bumpland. He was psyching himself up. Another skier came to be known as "The Growler" as he mastered his bump technique, audibly growling at each bump he was to turn around. Once a 10-year old boy was seen negotiating a bumpfield, talking to them as he turned, "I think I'll turn here", "Now I'll turn around you., "Oh, here's a big one--up and over, now down and around", etc. as his father followed, shaking his head, saying, "He talks all the time!" Shouting or calling out words at turn initiation can help some, using words such as "Commit", "Move", "Pole", :"Go", "Turn now!". Or shout internally. An instructor teaching bumps had 3 in the small class. Two were burly American men, and one a delicate English lady. The instructor told them to touch their poles to a bump with each turn, shout "Pole" as they did so, and then turn around the bump and pole. The word would serve as a timing device and get them to keep moving, essential in a bumpfield. The English lady could not be so forceful, however, so came up with her own phrase: "Nice spot!", "Nice spot!", "Nice spot!", she called out as she went through the moguls and was soon out-performing her macho classmates. Some women sing as they ski; if you choose this, pick a tune appropriate to the task--probably not a lullaby if skiing bumps. One time in his early skiing career, this website author was faced with the task of skiing across a snow-covered log. But partway through the task, he lost his resolve and crashed. Yet it would have been so simple to continue had he had commitment. And there have been many times since then that fear has leapt into his skiing and caused undesired results. Overcoming fear in skiing may be good preparation for life in general, for there are many instances in human activities where a positive approach is required, like standing in front of an audience or sticking up for a principle, for instance. Think of The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale. Certainly, dealing with fear in skiing is not unique in the sports world: think of gymnasts, swimming divers, SCUBA divers and snorkelers, surfers, windsurfers, hang gliders, sky divers and BASE jumpers. A catcher staring down a baseball coming at high speed past a batter takes resolve, as does vaulting over a high pole, climbing a rock wall, facing down the slope of a huge wave, and many more. Avoid trying new maneuvers in difficult situations of slope or traffic, for fear is almost surely to kick in. In fact, in such situations, for safety, it is better to use what you know will work. Put off learning and practicing new stuff until your environment is more comfortable. The rule is "Learn new skills on old terrain; Use old skills on new terrain." "How many psychologists does it take to change a lightbulb?", was once asked. "Psychologists can't change the bulb," was the answer. "fundamentally the bulb must change itself." Ski instructors can't change their student "lightbulbs", either, but like psychologists, they can try to help.
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