Here's another thing I love about sport. Once you touch it, it disappears. You have to chase down this elusive feeling that you visited briefly, trying to get your body to do whatever it was doing when you were skiing behind someone whose skiing makes sense to you to get it back.
I had a chairlift ride with Vance the other day, another incredible Aspen Mountain Pro, and I was chatting with him. He asked me how things were going with my trainer passport, and I told him that I wasn't sure about this one type of turn. I'd been able to do it skiing behind Kurt, and then I'd had it strongly for the rest of the morning, and on and off after lunch, and then just a little the next morning, and by lunch of the second day, it was gone.
I said to him, "I don't know, I guess I just need to get out there and chase Kurt down Copper again and feel it all come together."
Vance looked at me. "No you don't." He said. "You had it for two days, right?"
"Yeah, on and off..."
"Then its in there. You've felt it enough. You know what you are not doing, you know what it felt like to do it right. Go figure it out yourself."
I thought about this for a second. He's absolutely right of course.
"Thank you. I guess I just needed someone to tell me that I know how to do it."
"Whatever," he said, "I don't know if you know how to do it or not, or even what it is. But if you did "it" for two days, you know how to do whatever it is. The answer is inside of you already. Just quit whining and get out there and ski it till you figure it out."
Awesome. So I did, I went skiing, thinking about what I'd done before, and what the ski was or was not feeling like now, and suddenly, it was back. Only this time, it wasn't Kurt's turn, it was my version of Kurts turn. It was my understanding of the turn that I want to execute. And while I know it has a long way to go, it felt good to find the cues and ask myself to put them together, trusting that the turn would work even without a safety in front of me proving it all the way down the hill.