We鈥檙e somewhere north of 11,000 feet at the on dawn patrol when Chris Keyes, the editor of 国产吃瓜黑料, gives me a warning: 鈥淚鈥檓 going to push now.鈥
We鈥檝e spent the last 45 minutes talking shop while moving at what I thought was an unreasonably fast pace. I鈥檇 carried myself well for a newbie skier. Sure, I鈥檇 taken a few extra water breaks and asked an unnecessary number of questions to slow Keyes down. But I had (mostly) stayed within shouting distance of my boss. Within seconds of his announcement, however, he gapped me. And that鈥檚 when I realized it: skinning up sucks so bad that it鈥檚 actually fun.
I鈥檝e always had a love-hate relationship with sports. One of my earliest on-the-field memories involves my father offering me $100 if I scored the winning goal in a soccer game. I didn鈥檛 get the check. I just wasn鈥檛 athletic. Too tall. Joints too loose, according to the chiropractor. In little league, I batted somewhere around eight in the order. And when we ran sprints in middle school, I was once outgunned by a pudgy female classmate. Ego, deflated.
Then my grandfather bought me my first road bike and I started riding, first by myself and later with a team. And to my surprise, I was actually good at it. I raced, won a few state championship titles, was a solid teammate, and (hey, Canada counts). It was only at this time that I began thinking of myself as an athlete. The sport turned me into a new man.
It also introduced me to the love of my life: descending. Yes, you have to summit the mountain before coasting down (and I鈥檓 not a fan of climbing), but on the descent, any zero can be a hero. So when my college buddies explained that in skiing, you get carried to the top of a mountain and then glide down鈥攏o exertion required (hey, that鈥檚 what they told me)鈥擨 got excited. Really excited. I bought a ticket and flew to Colorado.
At first, it was a blast. I took a group lesson, leaned about DIN settings, and had my first taste of the West. Problem was, I hated feeling like a non-athletic beginner. The perennial never-ever getting passed by 5-year-olds without poles. With bike racing, I鈥檇 finally mastered a sport. I wasn鈥檛 about to make a fool of myself again. So for the past three years, I鈥檝e only occasionally rented the gear to pizza my way down the mountain.
And then I was asked to participate in the 2015 Zero to Hero project, our attempt to transform three beginner athletes into all-stars. This magazine has a long history of taking willing to not-so-willing editors and interns and throwing them into the ring. Back in 2008, Will Palmer, our then managing editor, learned to skydive for the magazine. One year later, research editor Ryan Krogh聽was given six months to become a cage-fighting champion. He drove to an MMA gym in Albuquerque five times a week, lost 25 pounds to get into the best shape of his life, and survived a few rounds in the octagon.
By comparison, my challenge was hardly a challenge: become a strong enough skier to skin up the the Santa Fe ski hill and ski down a blue run before work.
The month before I joined Keyes, I鈥檇 been on an all-out mission to become a better skier: a private lesson at (those guys are crazy good), weekend ski days, and one-on-one coaching from our executive editor. I was linking parallel turns and had learned how to hockey stop. No, I hadn鈥檛 ever skinned up before. But I wasn鈥檛 really worried about the uphill. I figured it would be easy and good preparation for my hero video.
I knew I was in trouble the minute I lifted Keyes鈥檚 skis onto my roof. They were insanely light. Gliding out of the parking lot didn鈥檛 inspire any additional confidence. Each time I took a step forward it felt like I was lunging with cinder blocks strapped to my ankles. I had been so focused on the downhill that I hadn鈥檛 prepped for the uphill. And nobody had warned me about the pain. It didn鈥檛 get any better the higher we climbed. But I stayed close to Keyes. So by the time he decided to push it鈥攈e was training for a 鈥擨鈥檇 been redlining for 45 minutes.
I continued to the top at my own pace. In the same time, Keyes skinned all the way up, skied down to me as I kept going, then skinned back up with me to share a gorgeous view of Santa Fe.
On the way down, I stopped cursing my skis and my boss. And for a blissful seven minutes, I fell in love with skiing.