Reflections in the snow

Skiing, for me, was like Vimto Bon Bons.

I used to love Vimto Bon Bons. I can’t recall a more exciting and fulfilling taste sensation than the first time I popped one of the addictive little sweets into my mouth, trusting the enthusiastic recommendation of my kids.

The second didn’t have quite the same impact, but was still a tasty treat. By the end of the packet I was still popping the Vimtos at an unhealthy rate but now the pleasure had turned to pain. A pain I was pushing through boldly despite having lost any sense of enjoyment.

So it was with skiing. As a younger man I utterly loved the sport. I ticked off reds and blacks with a fearless hunger and sought out any opportunity or excuse for a trip to the Alps. Skiing was a part of me; right up until the point I took a big fall.

In a silly moment of catching an edge, I hit the ground hard. Not enough to do permanent physical damage but hard enough to knock any passion for skiing out of my heart. Skiing and I said our goodbyes and many years passed with little more than awkward memories of my prior enthusiasm. I recalled it alongside my childhood love of cowboys and my period of obsession with the Breakfast Club. 

I tried returning to the slopes a couple of years ago to accompany Rach, my then fiancee now wife, in pursuit of her passion. I enjoyed being outdoors and the mountain views but the skiing was just a necessary means to an end. A means of travel. Something to be endured.

So it was then that when Rach declared last year that she felt a yearning to feel ski’s beneath her uncomfortable boots once more, I sighed the sigh of a man who knows his inevitable fate. Another ski trip to endure. To be bravely faced for the greater good; like a check-up with the dentist or a shopping trip at our local mall.

To soften the blow Rach found a place that combined skiing with a yoga retreat. A simple quid pro quo. I get to enjoy some yoga, Rach gets to enjoy some skiing. Seemed she had presented a logical and fair proposition. 

Unfortunately logical and fair propositions are notoriously difficult to disagree with without looking unreasonable, and so reluctantly I accepted defeat and agreed to go. Showing just enough sulkiness that I’d be guaranteed maximum Husband Points for my selflessness.

Rach even has the audacity to tell me I might ‘enjoy’ it!

I hate it when my wife is right.........

It seems that letting go on the yoga mat leads to letting go on skis; and in letting go I re-found a passion long lost. The moment (and it was in a single moment) I stopped trying to stay safe, stopped trying to dig edges in with all the strength my ankles could muster and just let the skis slide, just trust in my knackered old body and let go of the outcome; in that moment I rediscovered all the freedom and spirit that a snow covered slope has to offer. 

I slid into the familiar arms of who I once was, truly am. I held onto that carefree soul with all the celebration of a long lost brother. I would have killed the fatted calf had we not been on a vegetarian retreat.

Skiing its seems, is not dissimilar to yoga. It all sounds so simple but in practice feel so difficult; until you learn to let go of the potential of failing, let go of the perceptions of others and submit to the mountain or the mat.

I’m delighted to say I wasn’t alone. This particular journey from grumpy-reluctant, to passionate ski-yogi was taken with nine of the most amazing companions the universe could have mustered. Within a week we went from strangers to trusted friends. I shared things about my life that I have only ever shared before with Rach and have only fully started to come to terms with myself. 

Perhaps the vulnerability demanded by the mat and the mountain flowed into our dinner conversations also; fuelled by jugs of wine and inspiring food. 

I left the UK a week ago a grumpy old man, trading a holiday compromise for Husband Points. I returned with my heart beating to the tempo of turns on a black run, my soul breathing to the flow of Ashtanga and a whole set of amazing new people in my life who I am proud to call friends. 

Every journey needs its guide. On this occasion my guide in mountain and guru on the mat was YoYoSno (www.yoyosno.com). I am deeply grateful to them for all they did for us on our 2019 yoga-ski retreat; I can’t wait to see where they will lead my skis and my soul next year!