A Reason that the Sochi Games are Meaningful to Me
Probably now after five solid days of Winter Olympic action, many of us have gotten our feet wet in a little of the events and medal counts that have been awarded so far. Having thus far engaged in several personal late night sessions of watching replays on the internet, brings me up to speed somewhat on this year’s games but with still lots more action yet to come. There is a special importance for me in viewing the Winter Olympics as it’s a series of events that from a very young age catered to one of my most impassioned interests, that of snow sports.
Growing up in north Florida, one would expect it unusual for a kid prone to spending most months of the year on the beach to get riled up over cold, snowy weather and the activities that surrounds it. But it was from that first trip to the enormous splendor of the Rocky Mountains at the age of eight, that solidified my personal enjoyment and anticipation to return each year. Fortunately, my older siblings had grown up with the privilege of partaking in an annual family ski vacation. When I came around several years later, the tradition had more or less been set that spring breaks would be spent on the slopes of Breckenridge, Vail or Snowmass.
First time up on the mountain at that early age is still memorable in my mind. It was owing largely to one former experience on a ski hill in North Carolina earlier during that same year where I had learned the rudimentary mechanics of what the sport of skiing was all about. You snap your boots into the bindings, point the skis downhill, and when you need to brake just make a simple apple pie formation to slow your speed. The beginner technique of skiing was just apple pie/ French fry. That first run down the rather large front side hill of Vail mountain though was something special. It was a moment of defiance that conjured a ‘let’s just do this’ approach, allowing me to overcome any fear and just point the skis downhill.
I believe that I managed ok on that initial run. By the end of the day their was some Brazilian guy probably about 10 years older than myself who was allowing me to pall up with him in taking on the challenge of adjacent front side blues and the entry level black diamonds.
The fun of stepping into those short, old sixty centimeter Rossignol rentals as a kid and getting out there on the slopes was like nothing ever experienced before. In subsequent years, through my early teens, was when two of my older siblings had taken a semester off from college to land jobs in the resort town of Aspen or Vail. This made the excitement of visiting even more eventful for not only the opportunity to partake in my impassioned new hobby of skiing but also for the exposure to the cool, older environment of which either my sister or brother were associated with as something of a single season ski bum.
The challenges of keeping pace with family members who had developed years of practice in honing their skills and particularly the experienced level of my bro or sis who had made themselves a daily fixture on the ski mountain during their residency made me better. My improvement at about the age of twelve was when the hurdle had been jumped for upgrading to the Salomon 100 centimeter demo skis in order to account for my increase in height and a need for more speed to keep pace with the family pack.
The skiing in and around all the various terrains of the mountain were and still are what it’s all about. Whether it be cruising down the firmly packed groomers during a bright blue bird day, hitting the trees for some untracked powder or a playday of new freshies around the mountain anywhere that your spontaneous compass may lead you, all brings spectacular exhilaration.
It was at the age of thirteen that the popularity of snowboarding began capturing my attention. After a one day attempt, my interest soon was compelled to begin splitting half of a six day vacation on skis while dedicating the other three days in trying to develop an intermediate ability as a boarder. It came quickly enough. By fifteen and still living in the warm seasonal Florida climate, the anticipation had swayed from that of the annual ski vacation to that of snowboarding. From then on, hasty for spring break to roll around again would prompt a ritual of buying early season snowboarding mags, watching the seldom Saturday morning episode of Ski Weekly on ESPN and the every four year prime time broadcasts of the Winter Olympics.
The Crowd Funding bid for Travel to Sochi