Old Ski Bums Never Die

Skiers are an odd lot. Snowboarders are even odder. Some of my best friends when I was ski bumming in Vail were Shred Betties. Telemark Skiers are the most reverent. I can still hear the refrain, “Free your heel, free your mind.” To me there is nothing more beautiful than a Tele-skier in fresh deep powder along the tree line, carving up some turns. The beauty belies the difficulty in the act of the turn. Cross Country skiers puzzle me! Why would you not let gravity assist you? They are a very fit lot.

I have been watching the Olympics every evening from Vancouver. Whistler and Blackcomb are incredible mountains. It was my good fortune to be a part of an exchange program there in the late 80’s. Watching Bode Miller and Lindsey Vonn in the downhill events got my heart pounding just like I was there again. The runs are some of the longest and most thigh burning runs I have ever taken in my life! One mile of vertical is a long ski run. I couldn’t help but reflect back on my misspent adulthood as a ski bum. My friends and I spent the better part of the 70’s and 80’s chasing snow flakes and sunsets across North America. The quest for the ever deeper snows and ever steeper mountains is truly addicting. I am proud to be a recovering powderholic in my mid-fifties.

That brings me to my point. These days, like all older men, I try desperately to recapture my youth. The only way I know how to do it is by writing about it. You might call it the ( Last Trial of the World’s Greatest Ski Bum.) But let me tell you, for a brief moment sitting in my recliner in front of my Big Screen TV, I indeed was twenty five again. I could feel the wind in my face, the pounding of my heart in my chest, the rush of adrenaline through my veins and the burning in my quads, and thighs. I was straining to maintain my balance and keep my tuck through every turn and roller. All I can say is; “ Thank You to the all the Olympic Athletes for your great feats of endurance, stamina, and will. Thank you for the fire that burns to win from within. You made me realize that Old Ski Bums Never Die, the flame may grow cold, and yes, even old, but it still burns.” Albert Bianchine