The Breaker
An exclusive xcskiworld.com column by Levi Hensel. Find the complete index of columns by this author here
I am The Breaker.
I break things. That’s just the way it is.
Everything I buy falls apart.
Everything I’m given, have been loaned, have begged, borrowed, or stolen for the purposes of ski racing, somehow cracks, shreds, snaps, or rapidly corrodes in such an incredibly deficient nature that I am constantly left wondering what the hell just happened. In no way is this rampant breakage intentional, it just happens. It is not as though my equipment sometimes tends to crack a little bit once in a while.
Nope, for me, it shatters explosively.
It happens regularly too. It occurs with such metronomic regularity in fact, that new longevity marks, and equipment turnover rates for me are set, not by market trends nor by equipment company ingenuity, but by the length of the interval which elapses between the time of product purchase and it’s deleterious, horrendous failure.
I suppose I’m hard on my equipment. This is what people are always telling me. Yes, I am a pretty strong guy. Yes, I do exert a lot of power and torque. Yes, I train with vigor and often race in anger. But I’m actually pretty average sized, and honestly, I do not get why the breaking happens. Why must you fail on me in a percentage that is so disproportionate to the rest of the skiing world? This stuff is supposed to last. I paid good money for it. I take care of what I own, and treat my ski-related belongings with such a high level of respect as to border on extreme reverence. Yet my level of caring is of no consequence.
Here’s a little preview of my pitiful prowess. Over the past year, I have managed to catastrophically disintegrate the following:
Two pairs of skis
Three pairs of boots
Five pairs of bindings
Two pairs of rollerskis
Six pairs of poles
And a partridge in a pear tree.
(Are the dollar signs scrolling terrifyingly in front of your eyes right now too? Don’t worry, the partridge lived.)
This past year could only be exceeded by the season, several years past now, in which I broke all of the above, as well as two additional pairs of skis.
Ouch. I mean, really, how much do I suck?
The awful thing is that I do not use bottom of the barrel equipment either. I am annually exposed to top of the line equipment, supposedly designed by ultra-genius engineers hiding in carbon fiber fabrication factories in the mountains of Europe, and tested years in advance by the crème de la crème of the World Cup circuit. The stuff I ski on is supposed to be the best you can get. Yet my equipment never fails to…well, fail.
How can this possibly be?! The exasperation it causes me is endless.
I’m constantly perturbed by the possibility that I am cursed when it comes to ski-gear. I often wonder if there is some dark force that surrounds me and surreptitiously weakens the vital structure of any pair of skis, boots, bindings, or poles that I come into contact with. I can walk past a ski rack, and bases will start inexplicably gouging themselves. It has been this way for as long as I can remember too. Prior to my ski career, I was a hockey player. I broke forty-dollar hockey sticks like cheap matches. I’m surprised my parents were able to pay the mortgage. At least broken hockey sticks can be recycled with a bit of cleverness. My father fabricated some great folding chairs with my remaining detritus.
Ski poles…not so much.
I’m still picking carbon fiber splinters from my butt after my own unfortunate attempt at furniture production.
Now, I must point out, that, despite my clearly documented ability to both break things, and whine, I am quite thankful, thankful beyond words actually, for the equipment I do receive. This goes for all the equipment I have ever received for that matter, and I most certainly feel that all the equipment I currently use could not be much better than it already is. I must make it clear however that I do not discriminate with respect to make, model, brand, or company. I am an equal opportunity equipment smasher.
If I use it, I will obliterate it.
I am the bane of every ski company rep or ski shop owner I’ve ever come into contact with. They run in fear at my approach and hide trembling until I pass. It probably does not help that I am guilty of uttering the same words as every other skier who has ever demolished a piece of equipment. You know how it goes, come on, you’ve said it before…all together now, say it with me, “So, there I was, just skiing along…”
Now, if there is one thing that makes ski reps and shop owners cringe it’s definitely the “JSA” statement, or any relative thereof. (Which is of course applicable to just about anything, JBA (Biking), JRA (Running), JDA (Driving), etc.).
This statement is of course infamous because we all know the truth of the matter.
From the manner in which you mangled your skis, you were clearly not JSA. It is much more likely that you were trying to emulate the latest trends in extreme skiing, with your buddies egging you on, while wearing skis designed for 10k’s and not for half-pipes.
Actually, an even more plausible scenario, is that you were not JSA at all, but rather JDA, with your skis in your ski-bag, behind the rear tires where you accidentally left them, prior to backing up out of the parking lot.
These things are not even in my frame of thinking. I actually am always JSA. This is God’s honest truth. I do not hit jumps. I do not stomp up hills. I do not wreck that often. I do not engage in a lot of games or horseplay while skiing.
Somehow, someway, my stuff just falls to pieces beneath me. I constantly dread the gut-wrenching, high-pitched “tick-thwock” sound of a ski pole splintering. It gives me nightmares.
I do not even believe that I am all that clumsy, just that my body likes to (of it’s own uncontrollable free will) position itself at odd angles to my equipment at the exact wrong moment…over, and over, and over again.
The idea that I will immediately ruin anything that I’m given really brings in the sponsors too, let me tell you.
I’m positive that based on my track record, there is a large black “X” near my name on various consumer and athlete lists held by ski corporations around the world. The subscript next to the mark always reads, “Do not give this guy any more equipment, he has vastly exceeded his JSA limit, and is hereby banned from any more returns, exchanges, refunds, or even the ability to purchase new equipment forever and ever until the end of time.”
I know my results can be much better, but I’m pretty sure the overriding reason I have no pole sponsor is that the cost-benefit ratio of my being seen using their product, versus the number of products I will return to them, is comical. I’m talking like, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy back in the day funny.
Mostly, I suppose that I hope ski companies can utilize this odd talent of mine. In the utmost, I know I can be the ultimate wear tester. In the least, I can clearly act as an example of what can go really wrong with expensive equipment. You know, like the poster that says, “Maybe your purpose in life is to serve only as a warning to others.”
I certainly promise that I shall try my mightiest to keep my breakage controlled, and applicable only to myself. However, if you truly love your equipment, I urge you keep it as far away from me as possible. God help you if you ever let me borrow anything.
I have come to accept the fact that I probably will not devastate less equipment the longer I ski, and that I can only but hope to control the damage.
I am forever branded The Breaker.
Ski on my friends, and until next time, keep your poles sharp, your wits sharper, and your equipment intact.
(In addition, Levi would like to thank dearly the employees at On the Way Bike and Ski Shop in Bend, Eli Brown at Fischer USA, and his housemate/teammate Jan Spurkland for putting up with his constant JSA shenanigans. Levi passes on his hopes that this year will be better than the last one, and that someone out there will invent some products that he can not destroy.)
Levi Hensel lives in the skier paradise of Bend, OR where he races for XC Oregon/Therapeutic Associates Inc. He is proud to represent Fischer USA in his racing endeavors, and when not training vigorously, or writing absurdly, finds time to help coach, and drink a lot of coffee.
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