Leaning Into Leadership Part 1

When our two oldest sons , Drew & Tyler, were in high school and middle school we did a number of family skiing trips out west for spring break. I had skied a few times on North Carolina slopes, but never out west, so on the first trip I decided to take the skiing class on the first day. I quickly learned how to stop with the wedge and how to glide gently from side-to-side skiing down the bunny slop. After 5 or 6 trips down the bunny slope I was confident this was going to be easy.

After lunch, the class moved to the easy green slope next to the bunny slope. We took the chair life to the top of the slope, and I pushed out of the seat and eased down the shoot that led to the top of the slope. I wedged to a stop and took a deep breath, looking at the beautiful snowcapped mountains in the distance. I then pushed off and applied everything I had learned on the bunny slopes. It was masterful. I was making wide sweeping turns down the slope. I was able to wedge to a stop whenever I wanted to. On the next trip down the slope I tried the side stop and landed it with perfection, sending a puff of snow into the air. It was close to a perfect day of skiing.

Day 2, I spent the morning on the green slopes again. This time going to longer slopes on the mountain. I was confident, focused, and dashing in my ski outfit. I was sure that people were saying, “Who is that guy that is skiing so gracefully?” I met the boys for lunch, and they talked non-stop about skiing down the blue slopes and black slopes. After lunch I bid them and the green slopes farewell and headed to the blue slopes. I’m reasonably athletic and my confidence was overflowing, so I was confident it would be a piece of cake after my masterful demonstration on the green slopes.

The first disaster occurred getting off the chairlift. That’s not where you want to fall. (Pause) but I did. I scrambled to my feet as other skiers swerved left and right around me to avoid a pileup. I then eased down to the top of the slope, took a deep breath (this time to calm myself), and pushed off. I made it through the next 3 turns and my confidence returned. Easy breezy, I thought. Just a mistake on my part when I fell off the chairlift.

Then, before I realized what was happening I found myself going faster and faster. The incline of the slope had been increasing for at least 50 years. I made it through the 4^th 5^th and 6^th turn but at this point I was skiing on raw energy, not sure what I was doing. On the 7^th turn it all came apart – literally. I hit the snow like a kid coming down the slide into a swimming pool. Splat.

I quickly scrambled to my feet and pushed off again. Turns 8 & 9 were OK, but turn 10 was the true disaster. When I hit the snow this time, it was like an explosion. My right ski was still on my shoe but the left ski was laying 10 yards up the slope where I hit first hit the snow. Just out of reach laid one of my poles.

I laid there for a second to catch my breath hoping no one noticed. But someone did notice – my oldest son Drew. The black slope he had been skiing merged into the blue stope I was on as he headed to the bottom of the slope. He saw the whole train wreck – fall after fall after fall.

As I laid there trying to compose myself, Drew stopped up slope, picked up the ski eased down the slope, picked up the pole and skied over to me. “You ok?” he asked? “Couldn’t be better I said.” (say this with great sarcasm)

He helped me up, get my ski back on and handed me the loose pole. “I watched you as I was coming down the slope,” he said, “I saw you fall twice. Here’s what I think’s happening. When the slope increases and you are going faster, you are standing straight up. That puts you off balance. To ski on the blue and black sloped you have to lean into it. Pitch forward  so that your center of gravity is over the center of the skis.” 

He helped me up and showed me what it looked like as he skied a few yards down the slope and stopped. “Ski down to me – he said.” I started standing up straight and as my speed picked up, another disaster hit. I got back on my feet and he said, “Look, I know it will feel awkward when you lean forward but trust me. Just but do it.

It was a weird feeling for a second, I felt out of control. Then I turned and discovered I had better control. I could move easier on my skies. I pull up next to him and stopped. He smiled. “Lean into dad. It will make you a better skier.” Then he was off to the chairlift. More to come in the next post.