Video Analysis and Double Diamonds

By Carson Bennett, 3-05-08

	Caption: Kachina Peak from Sir Arnold Lunn

It is another bright, sunny day in Taos. The snow is still good – not the knee-deep fluff we had yesterday, but still lightly packed powder without a hint of ice. Today is also our make-up day. Ski week instructors have been scheduling a double-lesson some time during the week since the storm closed the mountain a few days ago. We will meet for two hours in the morning, as usual, have lunch, and meet again at 1:00 for another two hour lesson. I have a feeling I’m going to be sore tomorrow.

This morning we do our usual warm up, some fast runs on blues, concentrating on form, leaning into the turns, keeping our hands up and shoulders pointed downhill. We play in Walkyries Glade for a while (the locals refer to it as simply “the trees”) weaving through a huge spruce glade like – pardon the cliché – fish through water. We’re getting good.

The meat of the morning is the video analysis. I had heard rumors about this, but didn’t know if every class did it. Our instructor lines us up at the top of Moe’s, a short black run on the back side full of moguls. At the bottom of the run, another ski instructor stands with a video camera. When he give the signal, the first person in our group drops into the moguls and makes a few turns. Her form is beautiful. The next person goes, and he also does well. I move to the back of the line. I want as much time as possible to remind myself of everything I’ve learned this week, and prepare myself to display it.

Finally I’m the only one left at the top. Everyone stands at the bottom, watching me. I can’t believe I wanted to go last. The instructor with the video camera waves and I drop in. I make a few turns, and suddenly I’m at the bottom. That wasn’t so bad. Then again, I haven’t seen the video yet.

After lunch, I get my chance. We all gather in a conference room at the base of the mountain and Dano pops in the tape. We watch the whole thing, all the way through. He doesn’t say a word, but he’s staring intently at the screen, leaning forward, and I can see he’s making mental notes. We watch it again. This time, we watch each person in slow motion, then he rewinds it again, and, frame by frame, he gives a close analysis. “Sue, you’re doing great, but see right there, you’re stance is still a little rigid. You’re standing tall, but your shoulders don’t move.” Each analysis builds on the last, as he compares us to each other, telling us which pieces of expertise we could borrow.

It’s a strange thing watching myself ski. I have, of course, never watched myself, and I can see immediately the things I need to work on. For some reason, when I plant one pole the other hand shoots up in the air like I’m waving at someone downhill. Someone in our group suggests it’s an “overzealous pole plant” and we laugh. I can see that it throws off my rhythm. I had no idea I did it, and without the video analysis I probably never would. Now I can work on it. The video analysis is invaluable. If I got nothing from the ski week but this, it would still be worth it. I learn not only from my own run, but from everyone else in the group.

In our final afternoon hour, Dano takes us through some of the most difficult terrain on the mountain – super-steep double-diamond tree runs like Sir Arnold Lunn. After the video analysis our instructor thinks we’re ready for it. We all make it through and back to the base without a problem. Apparently he’s right. I’m psyched. I’ve never skied this well in my life.

Oh, you may be wondering about the footbeds. Is it any coincidence that today was the best day of skiing I’ve EVER had? I think not. No cramps, no numb toes, and – here’s the kicker – I can actually feel the snow under my skis. Like Spencer at the Boot Doctor said, “A custom footbed is to snow as a DSL connection is to fast internet. You’re linked.” Amen to that.