I love it when the first snowfall happens. It just feels so perfect and homey, as though every day were Christmas.
It’s usually this time of month when the first snowfall happens, and this is when me and my family all pack out ski stuff and move up into our cabin at Whistler. We pretty much have two homes; one on the mountain, and one down in the city. The one up on the mountain is the best one in my opinion, suburbia life is boring in my opinion.
We unpack all of our things from the car and since the driveway is all snowy, there is someone that has to sacrifice their dry socks in order to make tracks for everyone to step in. That person is usually me.
After unloading the car, we make a fire, get dinner started and scrape skis (if you’re not a ski racer, scraping means scraping the wax off the bases of the skis with this plastic card thingy. It makes your skis faster and keeps them in good condition).
My mom usually complains about the dinky oven we have (it is most definitely a senior citizen) and how she hates gas stoves because food gets stuck in the grill. Dad usually ignores all of us and re-boots the hot tub, and stands there fully clothes probably debating about where he should go in with his jeans on or go and put on his bathing suit.
My little brother will avidly run into the bedroom and turn on the Xbox, and he and I will argue about who gets to play NHL 11 because there is only one goddamn remote. Usually I win, but I suck at playing the game.
“Wow, you suck.” He’d tease me as the other team scores, again.
“Stuff it, you.” I’d say back “I’m getting in the zone.”
“Well,” he’d say all matter-of-fact “sure doesn’t look like it.”
The team scores again. I sigh.
“Yeah, whatever,” is all I have for an answer.
“Can I play n–”
Then mom would call us in for dinner, and for some reason, when we’re on the mountain, the cooking’s always better. Maybe it’s just because I’m at the best place on earth (Whistler Mountain), or just because she tries harder here.
But either way, the cabin life is quaint. It’s fantastic and utterly amazing. No one can say otherwise, because we all know it’s true. I’d trade after-school traffic for a snowy mountain and a roaring fireplace any day.
I love ski racing and skiing in general, but one thing that I find the most embarrassing about the sport is, yep, you guessed it…
You’re up at around six thirty in the morning, you get your stuff on, scarf down breakfast, get your backpack, skis, poles and boots and you’re off to the lift. The last thing on your mind is if you put enough sunscreen on, that is, when you’re half awake and yawning.
You put your boots on and hop onto the lift. Usually, being a ski racer, you’ll meet one of your teammates and go up the chair with them, chat about who said what and who has a thing for who, so there goes your second chance of slapping on sunscreen.
It’s only until about lunchtime that you put on the sunscreen, and by then, you’re already starting to look like you have a beard (something grossly attractive when you’re a teenage girl). Some people think it’s cool to have a goggle tan, and I guess it’s okay when you’re around your ski friends, but once you go back to school people look at you funny. “I thought that only guys did Movember,” they’d say. Oh, the humiliation.
Some skier’s goggle tans fester early on in the season, but thankfully, being one who tans easily, there is an SPF that goes up to 110 (you can buy it at Walmart) and I didn’t have that big of a goggle tan (if not none) when I came back from Vail this year. SCORE!
Some of my good buds get really bad ones, I mean, how can you do that to yourself? One of my friends had a goggle tan so dark that one half of his face looked like he was black, and the other half was whiter than the driven snow.
Also kids, if you think that goggle tans are just for the recreational ski racer and the spandex-wearing fool, think again. Even Kim Kardashian gets one.
That’s all for now, my fellow snow bunnies. Until next time!
One thing I get all the time about ski racing is the painful yet common comment about how tight our ‘spandex suits’ are.
I hate it when people call them that. Every time I tell them that I’m a ski racer, I usually get the response of “Oh, you’re the kids that wear those tight spandex suits”.
First off, kid, the name of this ‘spandex suit’ is actually called a downhill suit. Why do we wear them? No, it is not because we’re secretly disco dancers, it’s because it’s aerodynamic. What’s a ski racer if there’s no speed?
Yes, I know that the downhill suit can be a bit, erm, unflattering on the boys, who are, erm, having some technical difficulties with their bodies, but us girls don’t have issues. We like to think we look like this:
But the public’s look at us all like:
Don’t make fun of us. We’d probably slay you on the hill anyways. We’re the kids that use the slow signs as gates. Or, sometime we use the newbs as gates too, since they move so slowly.
Anyways, downhill suits come in a variety of colors, patterns and the like. There are even ones that can cost up to 500$. Shocking, right? There’s many things I could buy with 500 bucks, starting with groceries, which my fridge desperately needs.
There’s many a downhill suit brand. And like designer labels, there are brands that are more favored than others. There are downhill suits that are modeled after top-notch World Cup racers (celebrities in our eyes), ones made specially for national teams and provincial teams.
However, a downhill suit fashion faux-pas is probably a downhill suit that is too saggy in the bum. The suit must fit tight in all areas (yes, front and back), and seeing girls in the start corral with saggy butts just makes me wince in pain.
So, there we have it, our very first ‘Real Facts About Ski Racing’. I promise you that there will be more. If you have a suggestion about what I could post next, give me shout in the comment box.
See you on the hill,