On learning to ski

The view from the top at Mount Washington by Jonathan Jacobsen

The view from the top at Mount Washington by Jonathan Jacobsen

In January 2015 I learnt to ski. Or rather, I learnt to stay upright long enough in order to stop when necessary to avoid a crisis (internal or external) and turn when necessary to keep from plunging off the edge of the run. And apparently that is called skiing. It took 4,5 days, 3 instructors in 3 different resorts, and some serious deep digging to keep going – especially after the first two hour class which had too many people and too little patience for my slow learning curve. At that point I was fully ready to say “it’s been fab, have your ski’s and stupid boots and you’ll find me in the pub”. But partly because the very tall baby brother (and obsessive snowboarder) and the barefoot husband (and ski devotee) were so keen for me to learn that I didn’t want to let them down, and partly because my ego wouldn’t let me give up, I gritted my teeth and stuck with it.

Runs at Cypress by Anneleigh Jacobsen

Runs at Cypress by Anneleigh Jacobsen

I’ve realised that when it comes to concepts and ideas and things, I learn fast. But when it comes to physical skills, I learn really, really slowly! I’m really cautious, and that doesn’t work so well when falling is learning, but it does make for some interesting lessons – when you know nothing, you tend to see things more like a child again, and that can be quite helpful at times!

Slowly, slowly at Mount Washington by Greg Andrews

Slowly, slowly at Mount Washington by Greg Andrews

  1. Look where you’re wanting to go, not at the tools you’re using to get there

One of the things I found most difficult in the beginning (and for a good long while!) was to keep my head up and look to where I wanted to go, and not at what those very errant skis (which I’m sure were out to get me) were doing below me. The natural urge is to look at these odd new tools that you’re trying to master and try to ensure they are complying by turning your most forceful scowl onto them instead of lifting your head, looking to the place you want to go to and simply expecting the tools to work as they should. As they have been designed to work. And the funny thing is that as soon as you do lift your head, everything gets much easier! This applies to so many things, I think, when you’re trying to build a business or a brand or a career, even. If you’ve chosen the right tools (with expert advice), and you’ve been taught the basics, and you have the right processes and people in place to support you and guide you and keep you on track, then all you have to do is look up, focus on where you want to be and trust the process. It’s a much smoother, more enjoyable ride when you keep your head up!

 

The gondola up Blackcomb by Anneleigh Jacobsen

The gondola up Blackcomb by Anneleigh Jacobsen

  1. When you can stop and you can turn, you’re ready to move on up the mountain

It took me two and a half days of lessons to get to the point where I could go down a slope with enough confidence in my snow-plough to manage a stop in cases of panic, and to do those wonderfully elegant long meandering turns that skiiers make look so effortless – of course mine were neither so elegant nor so effortless, but I could at least do them and that made all the difference! I was officially able to ski! Which only meant that I wasn’t a complete hazard to myself or others on the slopes, really, but which also meant that I could prevent most of the crises I would otherwise have created. And as the instructor gave me a little card that said I was pretty unlikely to create havoc and so could venture to the slopes, I wished that someone had made sure I felt more confident about being able to – and allowed to – stop and change direction when I started my career. It would have saved me a lot of heartache and self-doubt along the way. And when building a brand or a business it’s also good to know that stopping or changing direction is sometimes necessary as things around you change. It’s good practice to stop and take stock of where you are and how things are going, and then make an informed decision about whether to carry on or adjust your path, or even make a big, fat turn to find a better line forward. It’s part of the whole thing, after all.

 

Snow angels in Whistler Village

Snow angels in Whistler Village

  1. Your context matters: even if you’re only playing

One of my lovely instructors made the comment, when he heard that I was from South Africa, that people who come from countries that don’t have snow generally take longer to learn to ski. Not terribly longer, like weeks and weeks, but a little longer – you see they are just not familiar with the environment at all. They don’t know snow. People who have grown up near snow, or lived in places with it, are more familiar with it – they know how it feels, they know what it acts like – they have thrown snowballs, and made snow angels and scraped it from their cars and shoveled it off their driveways. They know snow. And that matters. If you have to learn about snow from scratch, it takes a bit longer. And the same is true of anything, I think. So if you want to learn about something, or become an expert in it, you should try and become familiar with it environmentally as much as possible. If you’re studying and want to be in advertising, go and intern at an agency and get to know the way snow angels work in that strange world. Or if you want to be a writer, find a writing group and learn from people who know that deep valley well, you’ll soon start to absorb stuff from them that will ease you into it all. And trust me, whatever you can do to ease the process is worth doing!

Looking down from Whistler by Anneleigh Jacobsen

Looking down from Whistler by Anneleigh Jacobsen

On our last day in Whistler I did a full long green run down Blackcomb into the village and though there were sections where I snow-ploughed and squealed all the way, and sections where I balked at the slope, there were also sections of long gentle flowing turns through silent forests when I finally relaxed and caught small glimpses of the sheer effortless gliding through breathtaking places, silent and gorgeous, that must be what people fall in love with. It took 4,5 days, but on that final run I found a tiny little bit of the magic that everyone who skis talks about: I had learnt to fly. And there’s no going back from there.

Blackcomb Easy Out by Anneleigh Jacobsen

Blackcomb Easy Out by Anneleigh Jacobsen


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