I don’t know anybody who has fully and completely learned anything. If someone can describe what this person looks like, I will keep an eye out for them and take them out once and for all so we can all enjoy being evaluated on a more reasonable scale of performance. Now, shifting closer to the harsh realities of life, I have to say that, having crunched all the numbers myself, I have fully and unequivocally determined that, if one expects to become an expert skier before they die, they must start skiing no later than 14 years, four months and two days old. Thankfully, I happen to have started the day before that, so I am all set.
I have always known there is a special place in heaven for expert skiers. Though, I just found out it is being a shop rat ski tuner in the dirt floor basement of a dilapidated ski shop on an eternal shift that never ends. Oh, and the owner is a raging alcoholic, the floor staff knows nothing about hard goods, the cashier is stealing money, every ski that comes for a tune has, apparently, been skied through the parking lot on its way over and there is a large plastic bong duct taped to the control panel on the Wintersteiger that is uselessly programmed in German. There may even be a snowboarder or two working there. On second thought, that all sounds like it kind of sucks. Makes me wonder what the purgatorial plateau of Hell may be but I probably won’t have the opportunity to find out having started skiing so young. Ha!
… and, of course, I’m just kidding. The only thing I know how to crunch is potato chips and we are all free to develop to any level we want badly enough. As soon as our determination and commitment reaches the level of what is a fiercely burning desire for many, we are in the fast lane. A more realistic determination of skill potential rather than age would be, whether one is, upon their first allocation of performance skis and basic training, able to memorize, learn and live the doctrine of the skier’s creed:
These are my skis. There are many like it, but these ones are mine.
My skis are my best friend. They are my life. I must master them as I must master my life.
Without me, my skis are useless. Without my skis, I am useless. I must carve my skis true. I must carve better than my competitor who is trying to beat me. I must beat him before he beats me. I will ...
My skis and I know that what counts in performance is not the snow we spray, the noise of our edges, nor the speed we make. We know that it is the carve that counts. We will carve ...
My skis are human, even as I [am human], because it is my life. Thus, I will learn them as a brother. I will learn their weaknesses, their strengths, their bindings, their flex, their edges and their base. I will keep my skis clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will ...
Before God, I swear this creed. My skis and I are the defenders of my World. We are the masters of our competitors. We are the saviors of my life.
So be it, until victory is mine and there are no more competitors left to beat!
Note: adaptation from the US Marines Rifleman’s Creed by Maj. Gen. W. Rupertus, Circa 1941-42