tysonbolduc.com

Snowbird, US Nationals:

This year, if you have previously red my blog you would know, but for those who have not, click on heading or title below called “Not A Laughing Matter” to understand. Anyway, I broke some ribs back in January and have been trying to get back on the wagon ever since. Needless to say, I have been hurt before and have recovered and kept trucking. However, rumors have proven to be true and ribs are the injury that keeps on giving. For me it is not a gift in daily pain, but a memory that needs to be overcome. A memory creating a memory that reminds me what it feels like to have your chest rearranged.

Anyway, on that note, last week I ventured out to Salt Lake City, and competed in the US Freeskiing Nationals in Snowbird. The snow was dreamlike on the Monday when I drove into town through a blinding blizzard; and Tuesday was great, despite the fact that every powder hungry skier in the state of Utah miraculously had work off to ski that day. The 14in of fresh snow that had fallen,,, was flattened by 10:30. Needless to say however, it was fun and it gave a lot of hope for the competition that started in two days. However, that afternoon the sun came out and by the time we drove down the canyon into the city it was 65 degrees. The following few days leading to the competition were followed by much of the same. Temp rose to 65 to 75 degrees in the city and well over 50 at the resorts. The snow was cooked into a firm chalk, and skied hard as the resort does not see the benefit of closing the venues before the competition.

So the stage is set:
Wary, weak, and timid. Horrific conditions. Perfect for a competition…
Needless to say, you can sense my cynicism for the situation, but I signed up anyway. I figured I was there, and the camaraderie is why I was there anyway, so I committed to the event. I wish I could say I overcame the adversity and skied my little heart out, but unfortunately I remained timid and skied like I was fearful of everything I have been doing for six years. I guess that is why sports psychologists do so well, but the head games got a hold of me.

As I dropped in for my competition run I was questioning my own actions. Out of the gate I had a few turns before I pointed towards my first air, which was a solid 35-foot cliff with a hard pack landing. I landed on my feet but hit hard and skidded out a little, but recovered quickly enough to make the right footed turn towards my next chosen air. A few more turns, a speed check, and then air-born again over a 20ft rock into a bump field. The landing was bulletproof and my knees buckled hard into my fragile chest as I landed. After a sketchy but quick recovery I headed towards the point of no return and into a mandatory clif area. One more 15-foot drop and then I scurried across the slope to my last air. As I skied up onto the last rock area I changed my mind from my original plan and decided to hit the low speed cliff drop as apposed to the high-speed drop. As I took off the 20-foot drop my trajectory became clear and I could see just how flat the landing I was about to endure really was. As my skis hit they broke through the chalky snow and sent my body forward. I knew I was going down, so I tucked my chin to my chest and miraculously came out of the front flip maneuver landing back on my skis, skiing towards the finish without my head or body touching the ground. However, my frame of mind reflected the way I skied and so did my score.

I am lucky I skied away unscathed given my frame of mind, but lets just say the next day during the finals I was glad to be spectator. The snow was one hot day older and harder, and the venue more serious. Furthermore it was great to be with an awesome group of people at the bottom cheering on the weekend’s gladiators.