Wednesday, January 6, 2010

I'm Inclined Toward Weems...

So yesterday, I went over to Snowmass to ski with Weems and try to sort out why I couldn't stand in the middle of my ski during a short turn, and why it had such an inconsistent top.

As Squatty says, I was juggling too many balls in the air at once.

Weems and I chated on the chair on the way up about everything but skiing, and when we got to the top, he asked what I was working on.

"Rotating my femurs into the turn to get on an earlier edge."

"Okay, lets see it." he said.

Off we went. Mach Chicken down to the Big Burn. I was talking my way through every turn, and just couldn't take the line he was on. I know that when you change your skiing it gets ugly and falls apart right before it comes back together, and I was trying to be patient for that part. But I was frustrated. I don't like feeling scared of speed. And I want to feel like I'm in the middle of my ski more often!

We chatted on the next chair. "I think you turn your legs just fine. But you are over your skis. You need to be more inside the turnand aligned." It was a bit longer than that, but that's the jist of it. I'd spent so much time trying to stop dumping my hip and so much time reducing my tip lead, that I'd climbed back on top of my skis. I was massively over angulated, again, (Josh Spuhler and Mike Hickey have been trying to get me to understand that angles develop naturally for years...), but I couldn't do anything about it because I was getting all my edge from angulation.

Weems said, "Follow me" and away we went again, I let myself go inside, but asked myself to stay straight, and had the most bizarre and exciting sensations of the ski bending, but my head was in the center of the circle and it was playing funny games with my equilibrium. "Okay, now let your head and shoulders level but let everything else stay lined up over the foot."

Suddenly, my hand is scraping the snow, but I'm not kinked at the waist. for the bottom 2/3 of the turn, I have a stable platform, and I'm in the middle of the ski. But I still don't have a short turn, and I still don't have a reliable top.

I tell Weems this. He fixes my arms again, they are too far out, and I lean back to compensate, and he tells me to push my outside ski back at the top of every turn, instead of extending.

Suddenly, I have a top. A solid top. Suddenly, I can stand on my right ski. Suddenly, I can feel the tip of the ski curling back toward me as my obliques curl in toward it. I can fee counter developing, and I can let go of the turn early, because the next one has a top.

I chase Weems again, fast. Fast. SO fast. Faster than I've skied before. And I'm fine. I'm not scared, I'm happy, because I'm in the middle of the ski. And there is a consistent platform at the top of every turn. It's there in short turns, only every third turn, but its there. An hour and a half, and my skiing is completely different. My understanding of what it feels like to ski has shifted radically.

I have no idea where it will go from here, but I know that now, I can find the top, and stand on it, without it sliding out from under me and biting at the apex. I found the beginning of what will become my turn. I ski back down to the mall singing... because its possible. She can be taught.

No comments: