Why Race? Answer # 1: Cheaper Than Therapy
By xcskiworld.com Contributing Editor Andrew Gardner
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I like to bite off more than I can chew. Always have. I teach literature and philosophy, coach the Colorado Rocky Mountain School team, race a handful of marathons a year, do service work with Swix at a variety of events. I play in a bluegrass band. I write articles. I’m not suggesting that I do all of it very well but I’ve always had the propensity to put myself over the edge a bit. I occasionally hit the redline, snap, need to merely unplug. I guess I like that too.
Yesterday was just such a day. Too, too much was happening. Were this article a film, I would cut to the montage scene of school forms, needy students, calls from fellow coaches, unfinished grading. I’d bundle it together and attach a raging soundtrack. Maybe something from Ted Frisbie. Chaos. Frustration. Exacerbation. Finally, redemption in the form of an email.
“Noonday races in Aspen.” I blinked. “12:30 start time.” I blinked again. “5 kilometers. Aspen is 40 miles away.“ It was 11:15. I ran to my house.
On the drive, I could feel the world blurring passed me. I could feel the business of my day unwinding, the stress of my appetite for business satiating. I started breathing heavily from my belly. There wouldn’t be many people at this race. Maybe 10…maybe. It didn’t matter.
Often the kids that I coach are new to skiing. Often they ask, “Why race?” Many of the skiers I coach will never be great skiers, some will be hard-pressed to be decent skiers. This is an easy question to answer. “We race to perform something you practice and to be held accountable for it.” They usually look at me like I’m trying to sell something. “No really,” I say, “I’m not going to say that it doesn’t matter where you finish, but the biggest deal is that you take it on. Most people are too fearful to ever put themselves on any starting line, real or metaphorical.” Usually by this time, the kid’s either get it or are distracted by a shiny object and move on. (They always race, though.)
I felt my favorite feeling rolling over the hills that seemed uncharacteristically Midwestern next to the Aspen Recreational Center. The tracks were firm and fast with the high alpine sun beating water out of them. I was breathing and moving: a 5 foot 8 inch piston hammering out my little V2 up the rises and delighting in leaning my hips around corners. I squinted in the sun gleaming off the snow as I rounded a corner towards the finish line decorated only with a local woman taking times. Perfect.
On the drive home, I saw the gaggle of television trucks, lights, posters, banners, and (there’s no other word for it) crap that marked the coming week’s X-Games. Made-for-television seems to be the status quo these days- the feeling around the X-Games was shiny and hollow. I smirked. I had that contented feeling that only a full effort can provide. There was no bottom to the well of energy I had. I drove on, my to-do list waiting.
Andrew Gardner skis for Fischer skis, Alpina boots, and Swix poles. He is the Nordic program director for the Colorado Rocky Mountain School.
