Ski Instructors in Training: Precision Skiing 201

C.T. in Action

Precision Skiing 201. Wow, even that title is intimidating. This is the name of a PSIA (Professional Ski Instructors of America) Clinic I took this winter. The numbers 201 indicate that it’s part of the training for Level 2 Certification, a distinction of excellence largely achieved by being able to ski and teach perfect parallel turns on a variety of terrain. As for the precision skiing part, nobody is more precise about technique than the ski geeks at PSIA. And since I’m a member of PSIA, I try hard to be as geeky about skiing as the best of them. (It’s rare that a ski instructor has the luxury of mindlessly cruising down the mountain. Instead we’re plagued with contemplating every aspect of our skiing from angulation vs. inclination to whether we’re fore or aft; well, you get the idea.)

Sometimes I shake my head and I still can’t believe I’m a ski instructor. Whenever I sense fear in a student I like to share that it wasn’t until I became a ski instructor that I stopped having butterflies in my belly the first couple of runs of the day. The best way to conquer fear is to face it head on. So now here I was feeling like a kid in school—butterflies and all—in my first PSIA clinic of the season.

I admitted to C. T. (Chris Thomsen), a PSIA examiner, a Telluride ski instructor and our clinician, that I felt somewhat jittery (about what I’m not sure, perhaps the scrutiny of it all). His reassuring smile and warm, friendly approach helped to put me at ease. Already I was grateful ten times over that I was able to take this clinic in Telluride, my home mountain. (For all the others, I had to travel to other destinations within the Rockies.) C.T. took charge of our group of ten ski instructors much like we strive to do in our regular lessons.

After a couple of warm up runs, we launched into a few drills, just the kind of thing we might introduce to our students, depending on what they needed to work on. We began with shuffling through our parallel turns on a blue run. Not only did I feel goofy doing this (and I’m sure I looked just as silly), but it also proved to be a bit of a challenge, especially on the steep pitches. I soon learned that you could only properly do this maneuver when in perfect balance, the holy grail of good skiing.

I was counting on this exuberant burst of energy (as if doing a perfect turn isn’t difficult enough, imagine shuffling through many of them) to warm me up. This brutally cold and snowy day became even harder to endure with every frequent stop. Explanation, instruction and demonstration is typically a huge part of any lesson, particularly a program like today’s. Still, I reminded myself that I was a Professional Ski Instructor of America, part of the hearty core of American society that can endure harsh outdoor elements, all for the betterment of mankind, or at least to improve my skiing and to help others gain the skills that would make a difference in their own on-snow performance.

C.T., a wiry guy of slight build, exuded tremendous enthusiasm and boundless energy. I wondered why he wasn’t getting cold. I felt chilled to the bone and I’m padded with at least five times the amount of body fat as him. But then I admitted to myself that he was more of a professional than me, fully realizing that his task at hand was far more important than frozen toes. Careful to critique everyone’s skiing and demos as they passed, he possessed a remarkable skill for zeroing in on the component that needed to be corrected in order to make a difference in our skiing. Indeed he was blessed with the keen eye of an examiner.

“Tip before you turn,” he called out to me as I completed my own series of dynamic parallel demos. “In modern skiing, you tip your skis on edge and then input rotary,” he explained. “That will give your skis support rather than sliding down the hill.” I found myself thinking “tip and turn” the whole rest of the day.

Just like in a group lesson, C.T. was sure to give us attention both as individuals and as a group, and in turn we supported each other in a similar fashion. Everyone had the same goal: to work on our skiing and to learn how to impart this knowledge to others. The geek factor grew throughout each drill which also included balancing our poles on our wrists as though we were carrying a large tippy tray down the slope and dragging the poles on the snow. The goal was the same for all: establishing a perfectly balanced stance that would enable us to be most efficient in our skiing. As with our students, we found that different things resonated with different people.

At lunch we talked about the PSIA Teaching Model which includes the following format: introduction, determine goals, create lesson plan, present and demonstrate information, check for understanding, practice and review. For kids, it’s play, drill, adventure. There was much talk about the CAP Model which is an acronym for cognitive, affective and physical, stages of development that one must especially keep in mind when teaching children.

Our afternoon consisted of practice on the bumps and an endless array of wedge christie demos, something I found to be onerous on blue terrain. (Skis—especially today’s shaped ones—automatically want to glide into a parallel rather than push into a wedge. If only novice skiers could get this feeling right off, they’d save themselves a lot of effort and soreness.)

C.T. chatted about DIRT which stands for duration, intensity, rate and timing. By now I was feeling like how my students must feel at the end of a full-day lesson: weary and somewhat on overload yet quite satisfied. My skiing had been tweaked. I was now thinking more about “short leg, long leg” on my dynamic parallel turns and thanks to C.T., I had stuffed a bunch more drills and teaching aids into my bag of tricks.

He cheerfully thanked all of us for our attention at the base of the mountain. His exuberance had never waned. For a geek, he’s one heck of an outgoing guy. I would do well to emulate his approach. I think PSIA is on to something.

Thank you to fellow ski instructor, Todd Brown, for the above photo.

Family Fun Facilitators

Breaking for a Photo with Lisa, Noah and Sage in Front of a Mountain Lodge Cabin

“So what do you like best about skiing?”  I asked eight-year old Patrick on one of our many chairlift rides together.  There was a long pause during which time I anticipated the usual response, the one I receive most from kids—something along the line of loving to zip down the slopes really fast.  Patrick gazed out at the snow covered panorama that glittered with white diamonds before us on that chilly, yet sunny, morning.

“I like the views of the mountains,”  he finally replied.  “It’s so beautiful,” he added with all the wonder of having just opened a prettily wrapped Christmas present and finding a treasure inside.  “Back in D.C. where we live there are cars all over the place,” he added.  “It’s so busy.  Here it’s beautiful and quiet.”

I pondered his answer as we sailed over the slopes dotted with skiers of varying ability levels, largely vacationers that all totaled resulted in record-breaking numbers for the mountain this past holiday season.  “It is lovely here, isn’t it?” I replied, thinking about how the awe-inspiring grandeur of our jagged peaks escapes no one, not even children that are typically focused on the thrill of bombing down the hill more than absorbing the beauty of the surrounding area.

It was day eleven of my fifteen-day stint of ski instructing and with each client, big and small, I always found new inspiration, a fresh take on how to help everyone maximize their mountain experience.  I was on private lessons throughout this period, assignments that allowed me to more fully connect with my students which in turn created bonds that brought us all closer together, parents included.  

Sure skiing improved and we even broke through barriers such as being able to carefully work our way down steeper terrain without succumbing to a total meltdown.  (Cheering about those achievements together afterward was always the best!)  But more importantly, relationships were forged; everyone had more fun, a not-so negligent happening that produced a more positive time on the slopes and memories that would surely last a lifetime.

Some of my most vivid memories involve family ski vacations and I know that that’s the case for most of the people that chose to brave the cold and snow, the often tedious adjustments of clothing and gear and challenges such as trying to get your skis into a perfect parallel on a blue run when it feels safer to revert back to a power wedge.  Running about on a sandy beach—clad in nothing but a bathing suit—is far less daunting, yet certainly less rewarding.

I like doing what most ski instructors do best here in Telluride:  working with adults and children as a sort of family fun facilitator.  And in doing this, we take on a variety of roles at different times including coach, mountain adventure leader, big buddy and even surrogate mom, to name a few.  As an enthusiastic instructor, I introduce silly chairlift games, orchestrate drills such as skiing on one ski (to better feel the weight on the outside ski) or just simply cruise down the trail, setting the pace with a variety of turn shapes for all to follow.  

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Training and Turns

Telluride Ski and Snowboard Instructors at Morning Lineup Before the Sun Even Hits "The Beach"

It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to wrap up a few loose ends in my writer’s world so that I can devote the majority of my energy to my ski instructor life—at least for the next two weeks.  As of tomorrow, I’ll be on the mountain some fifteen days in a row. Typical ski instructor schedule around the holidays as a great influx of visitors and second-home owners are debarking this weekend and next.  Those that are super organized have already done all of their Christmas preparations and such; others, like myself, rely primarily on the mountain for invoking great festive spirit.

Charting the Course for Future Mountain Adventures with Clients

We’ve all been working hard these past few weeks to improve our turns and also to perfect our teaching and communication skills. This has been achieved throughout a variety of workshops, orientations and training sessions both on snow and off; all has been carried out in an effort to ready ourselves for our clients and guests, young and old, first timers as well as well versed ski and snowboard enthusiasts.  Probably what resonated the most for me was the importance of the emotional connection we create with our clients or students.  (That comes more naturally to me than skiing the steeps!)  

And the mountain has cooperated heartily.  Snow fell twenty inches within twenty-four hours this past week, bringing snow totals for the month of December up to 69 inches. All lifts are open and the trails are cushioned with downy packed powder throughout.

My laundry is done, my little apartment is super clean and tidy and there’s a stock of EmergenC in the cupboard, chicken soup in the freezer and a huge bag of crunchies for my kitties in the closet. There’s not much more I can do to be entirely ready to spend a string of long, cold days on the mountain.  And I can’t wait.  I often say that becoming a ski instructor is the best thing I ever did for my writing career.  It gets me out of my own often squirrel-ly way and allows me to interact with all kinds of people in a place I love dearly doing something that is incredibly fun. Telluride Ski and Snowboard School is one big family.  The mountain, in fact, is one huge tribe.  I look forward to providing updates about our gang throughout the season.

Spreading Rainbows and Sunshine: The Most Important Part of Our Job

Thank you to Deb Willits for the photos.  She is most certainly one of the best Professional Ski Instructor of America (PSIA) trainers in the country and Telluride is lucky to have her.

The Mountain Awaits You