Why am I doing this?

Why am I doing this?

The question floated around in the soupy haze of my tired brain as I struggled to make and eat breakfast on a Sunday morning. You see, I had been to a friend’s birthday party, stayed up too late, and imbibed enough the night before that I was struggling to remember why I was 60 miles from home and fighting to make it to my morning line up for a part time job to teach strangers to slide (ski) down a small hill in Pennsylvania. 

It’s a job which costs me far more financially than it makes me. It’s a job that requires me to take paid time off from my ‘real’ job to work it at times. It’s a job that causes me to have no more than 5 days off between December and March. It’s a job that cuts into my sleep and workout routines. It’s a job that often leaves me physically exhausted (and occasionally mentally exhausted as well). It’s a job that continually leaves me feeling as though no matter how much I’ve learned and mastered I have more and more that I don’t know or can’t perform. 

Why am I doing this?

I geared up, checked in, and immediately melted into a nearby bench next to our Snowboard side’s technical director to wait until line up. While sitting there, the supervisor walked up to share the story of a private lesson he sent out that morning:

A woman from Delaware called our ski school (we are several hours and 1-2 states away depending on how you drive) to book a private lesson to learn to 

snowboard. Why? Because when she asked her grandson what he wanted for his birthday, he told her it was for her to snowboard with him. 

This woman booked a secret weekend trip to our mountain, secret private lesson, and secret hotel room to begin to learn to slide to grant her grandson’s wish later this season. 

She is 71 years old. 

Why do I do this? 

• Because sliding is such an amazing experience that grandchildren want to share it with their grandparents as their wish for the year. 

• Because I get the opportunity to teach 71 year olds who are willing to travel hours to try sliding down a frozen mountain. 

• Because sliding connects people, families, and generations with one another and nature. 

• Because watching someone have (and helping facilitate) an “Aha” moment makes you smile on a cellular level. 

• Because no matter how awful I feel, teaching sliding enriches my soul, fortifies my faith in humanity, and makes me more than I am without it. 

• Because you develop long lasting friendships with people who share your love of sliding

• Because even when you’re struggling to exist, teaching skiing will surprise you to the depths of your core with experiences and stories that warm your heart and make you excited to get off the bench to go do it again and again.