In Appreciation of the Waddlers

A path near my school

There is a phenomenon in the nordic world that my family has coined "the waddlers." I don't know if there is an official term for these people, but most skiers probably know what I am referring to. Waddlers are the people waddling out on cross-country skis, tragically overdressed in every woolen scarf, mitten and sweater a wardrobe could possibly offer. They seem to be blissfully unaware of other skiers but generally in high spirits. They also, sadly, tend to be looked down upon by their spandex-wearing counterparts.

Two weeks ago (yes, two weeks, I haven't had time to do anything...), as I was dreadfully lost among the snow dusted pine trees, I acquired a newfound appreciation for these people. Appreciation, meaning that for an hour of my life, I got a taste of the flip side of this coin. I had somehow managed to get myself separated from my family and my team and my only means of communication (my phone) dead from the cold. That was how I found myself wandering hopelessly along the track in pursuit of a map, and lacking the motivation to go at any kind of a reasonable pace. A group of college-aged guys passed me in a whir of color, and I saw on of them glance back: a slight smirk on his face that seemed to me as a sort of confidence boost, like, "at least I'm faster than her."

That was when I started to wonder, maybe the waddlers have got it right. 

That, while I spend so much time on skis clocking kilometers and worrying about the milliseconds, I'm not taking the time to enjoy the step I am taking at the moment. That when I spend so much time living in my head, keeping the negative and whiny thoughts out of my brain, I accidently block out the positive thoughts that make me love to ski. By spending hours living in my head, I fail to notice what is happening around me. That as I struggle to find that army barracks focus and olympian effort, I start to loose my grip on what keeps me tied to the sport. That maybe, sometimes I'm just simply going too fast.

Maybe with life, and skiing, efficiency does not equal excellence. Maybe that while I am always hurrying forward to the next thing in life, I don't spend time basking in the sunshine of today. We have a society so concentrated on the numbers that quality loses its value. That we are so wrapped up with other people's opinions, rankings and grades that we forget to live for the experience we should really be getting out of it.  That while we are so busy sprinting forward, we lose sight of the destination.


We go to school and pay attention for the straight A's on the report card, but we don't really work for the value of our own education. We have no choice, college admissions don't exactly examine the passion you throw into learning, but how quickly you can memorize useless facts about airplane history and how effective your test taking strategy is. We do everything for the numbers: the 4.0, the 26.2 miles, the 4 milliseconds, the pay check....


We need to slow down. We need to stop looking at the outcomes start keeping our eyes on the goal. Why rush? Why burst past your star moments in pursuit of something better? You don't know your best moment until you've already past it. This could be it, enjoy it.

Closer

Ever since I've gotten back from west, I've been asking myself, why I ski. To be honest, I can't actually figure that out. Ironically, considering this is a post about slowing down, the moment that make my heart hurt for skiing are the moments that I'm going fast. They are the 20 second V2 sprints, starting gate double poles, the last all-out interval. But I'm also trying to stop and enjoy the snow covering the trees, to let your ski glide for a few more seconds to enjoy that moment of complete balance. 

So, what's the meaning in your life? Why are you here, what are you doing this for? Really. Live for that. Maybe this is just a long, metaphorical way to say "live in the moment." But hopefully it makes you think.


Slow your roll,
Victoria