Family day @ Fahnestock Winter Park

Three skiers stand perched atop a short, steep hill. Afternoon light filters through the bare trees. We stand at a halt, taken aback by the run ahead. The slope lays in shadow and opens on to a pleasant, lefthand bend, bright with sunlight.

I know that this moment could make or break our afternoon. I have been teaching my Dad and sister, Alison, how to cross country ski. Downhill skiers for years, they were quick studies; they impressed me by kicking and gliding through the flat terrain near the lodge, with very little instruction or delay.

Dad, suiting up

Now we have conquered a long, steady climb and have crossed road 301 to slightly more advanced terrain. I know they can handle it, but I also feel responsible for what I have gotten them into.

I lead the way, trying to look as cool and collected as possible. My Dad follows, cutting into the slope with a confident snow plow--"Remember your training," he's been known to say--and his training pays off well, as he glides down with ease. My sister follows, cannily side-stepping down the first few feet, and then smoothly gliding down herself, to join us in the sun.

My sister and me

Nothing gives me more happiness than sharing activities that I love with people whom I love. From coaching my high school athletes, to training and racing with my wife, it fills me up to share adventures with my friends. In fact, togetherness and teamwork often define the adventure.

If I ski down the tracks of my memory, I see: my Dad teaching me how to downhill ski and inspiring a lifelong passion; I also see my sister: the courageous little tyke smiling and hanging on to my ski pole, as I tow her to the lift line. 

Seeing them conquer that hill, feeling the camaraderie of a risk taken and a challenge conquered, felt like a moment of wholeness. Everything was right with the world, standing in the winter light, smiling at one another and shuffling our feet a little.

Happy apres ski; happier apres chili

The other highlight of the day was skiing atop a frozen Canopus Lake. Although I had been to Fahnestock Winter Park a few times before, the lake was never frozen. There was something so peaceful about skiing through all that open space; it gave a totally new perspective on the wooded hillsides that comprise the park. The three of us skied together, sometimes a pair forming, sometimes three abreast.

Canopus Lake: Cathedral of light

I was so happy to share this day with my Dad and my sister. Thanks to them for coming along and being such great sports. I declare the day a success because the two "beginners:" a) did not get injured (the coach's oath is like the Hippocratic: first and foremost, do no harm), b) genuinely had fun, and c) started making plans about how to get on skinny skis again soon. I hope they'll invite me along so we can all make tracks together.