Archive for September, 2009

Ira Riklis and the dreaded “face plant”

Monday, September 28th, 2009
Second, there is no easy way to learn to make an expert turn. Let me repeat, there is NO EASY WAY to learn to make an expert turn. A non-expert skier is scared of falling. Having broken a leg and an arm, I can understand why. The tendency is to lean into the slope so as to feel confident that if they are to fall, they will fall the relatively short and benign distance onto the uphill side of the slope and onto the soft, fleshy (and in my case, extra padded) tushy. In an expert turn, the skier has to have faith that every move will be executed properly and on time without thought. That means that if anything is off, the effect will be to launch yourself, not unlike a missile, down the mountain, FACE FIRST.
I named this maneuver a “face plant” because it was like planting your ski pole but using your face instead. In the effort to learn to be an expert skier, I performed many a face plant. To truly understand how difficult this process is, you must realize how painful each face plant is. Not only have you been punched in the face, but some of that snow (often ice) feels like a brick. The pain radiates down your entire body, especially your chest because after the face plant you land with a thud on your chest. Then there is the fact that your face is covered in freezing snow, which as it melts now saturates your clothing. I don’t mean to sound as if I am trying to discourage others from becoming expert skiers. Quite the opposite is true. I would liken the experience to childbirth, long after the pain has been forgotten is the pleasure of knowing your child (of course that equation is somewhat skewed during the trying teenage years). After the joy of my own family, I am most appreciative to Mike for giving me the gift of being an expert skier. I don’t remember the face plants really anymore; but every time I glide down a slope and experience the exhilaration, I don’t know if I can even find words to explain the joy and thrill that I feel. Mike got me to understand that I had to trust the turn and that I would eventually be rewarded by being able to complete the turn. Obviously, as I returned to teachers again and again, I wanted to be an expert skier. But that would never happen if I tried to find an easy and safe way; Mike got me to understand that.

Ira Riklis continues with his thoughts on skiing:

“Second, there is no easy way to learn to make an expert turn. Let me repeat, there is NO EASY WAY to learn to make an expert turn.

“A non-expert skier is scared of falling. Having broken a leg and an arm, I can understand why. The tendency is to lean into the slope so as to feel confident that if they are to fall, they will fall the relatively short and benign distance onto the uphill side of the slope and onto the soft, fleshy (and in my case, extra padded) tushy.

“In an expert turn, the skier has to have faith that every move will be executed properly and on time without thought. That means that if anything is off, the effect will be to launch yourself, not unlike a missile, down the mountain, FACE FIRST.”

Ira Riklis explains further:

“I named this maneuver a “face plant” because it was like planting your ski pole but using your face instead.

“In the effort to learn to be an expert skier, I performed many a face plant. To truly understand how difficult this process is, you must realize how painful each face plant is. Not only have you been punched in the face, but some of that snow (often ice) feels like a brick.

“The pain radiates down your entire body, especially your chest because after the face plant you land with a thud on your chest. Then there is the fact that your face is covered in freezing snow, which as it melts now saturates your clothing.

“I don’t mean to sound as if I am trying to discourage others from becoming expert skiers. Quite the opposite is true. I would liken the experience to childbirth, long after the pain has been forgotten is the pleasure of knowing your child (of course that equation is somewhat skewed during the trying teenage years).

“After the joy of my own family, I am most appreciative to Mike for giving me the gift of being an expert skier. I don’t remember the face plants really anymore; but every time I glide down a slope and experience the exhilaration, I don’t know if I can even find words to explain the joy and thrill that I feel. Mike got me to understand that I had to trust the turn and that I would eventually be rewarded by being able to complete the turn.

“Obviously, as I returned to teachers again and again, I wanted to be an expert skier. But that would never happen if I tried to find an easy and safe way; Mike got me to understand that.”

Ira Riklis, Mike Bartasuis, and ski instruction

Thursday, September 17th, 2009
Perhaps, in order to truly understand Mike’s incredible ability to teach skiing, it is best to start by analyzing the problems with the ways skiing is generally taught.
First off, skiing is intrinsically a complex ballet of motions, movements, shifts of balance, etc. However, if you are going to try and think your way through those steps, not unlike a student dancer counting out the beats, you will only be on step 3 when your circumstance demands step 12, which will lead to the inevitable tumble in the snow.
Most teachers reminded me of a cartoon of Goofy learning to play golf in which the narrator tells Goofy to lower his left shoulder, raise his right shoulder, lean his torso in, push his bottom out, bring in his left elbow, lower his right elbow, balance his weight evenly on his feet but bend his knees, lean into the ball, etc., etc., etc … OK, now swing. The result looked like a rubber band wound up tight in a toy airplane. When Goofy swings, he unwinds just like the rubber band.
The range of instruction for skiing included put your weight on the downhill ski, lean your hips into the hill, lean your torso down the hill, have the uphill ski about three inches ahead of the downhill ski, keep your shoulders even and pointed down the mountain, turn your hips, move your body up (what the hell does that mean anyway?), unweight the downhill ski, reweight the uphill ski, etc., etc., etc…and the result was not dissimilar to the Goofy golfing cartoon. Essentially, you can’t think your way through a ski turn at the expert level, you simply have to move with the rhythm.
Mike’s solution is to identify that ONE item in your technique which most interferes with the rhythmic motion, get you to understand that piece has to be changed, and then has you put on a great deal of mileage with that corrected movement. Once you have made that change a part of your muscle memory, Mike will identify what is now the item which most interferes with your rhythmic motion.
Eventually the correct motion simply becomes, as I mention above, muscle memory. Today, I don’t even notice the turn I’m currently making; I rely on muscle memory to make the turn. I’m thinking about a half mile down the mountain choosing my path to most effectively use the terrain, avoid people and obstacles, choose which path will be the most enjoyable, etc.

“Perhaps, in order to truly understand Mike’s incredible ability to teach skiing, it is best to start by analyzing the problems with the ways skiing is generally taught,” Ira Riklis continues.

“First off, skiing is intrinsically a complex ballet of motions, movements, shifts of balance, etc. However, if you are going to try and think your way through those steps, not unlike a student dancer counting out the beats, you will only be on step 3 when your circumstance demands step 12, which will lead to the inevitable tumble in the snow.

“Most teachers reminded me of a cartoon of Goofy learning to play golf in which the narrator tells Goofy to lower his left shoulder, raise his right shoulder, lean his torso in, push his bottom out, bring in his left elbow, lower his right elbow, balance his weight evenly on his feet but bend his knees, lean into the ball, etc., etc., etc … OK, now swing. The result looked like a rubber band wound up tight in a toy airplane. When Goofy swings, he unwinds just like the rubber band.

“The range of instruction for skiing included put your weight on the downhill ski, lean your hips into the hill, lean your torso down the hill, have the uphill ski about three inches ahead of the downhill ski, keep your shoulders even and pointed down the mountain, turn your hips, move your body up (what the hell does that mean anyway?), unweight the downhill ski, reweight the uphill ski, etc., etc., etc…and the result was not dissimilar to the Goofy golfing cartoon. Essentially, you can’t think your way through a ski turn at the expert level, you simply have to move with the rhythm.

[You are reading the notes of Ira Riklis of this thoughts on skiing.]

“Mike’s solution is to identify that ONE item in your technique which most interferes with the rhythmic motion, get you to understand that piece has to be changed, and then has you put on a great deal of mileage with that corrected movement. Once you have made that change a part of your muscle memory, Mike will identify what is now the item which most interferes with your rhythmic motion.

“Eventually the correct motion simply becomes, as I mention above, muscle memory. Today, I don’t even notice the turn I’m currently making; I rely on muscle memory to make the turn. I’m thinking about a half mile down the mountain choosing my path to most effectively use the terrain, avoid people and obstacles, choose which path will be the most enjoyable, etc.”

How Ira learned his technique

Monday, September 14th, 2009
So how does a fat, New York, non-athletic Jew learn to be such a talented skier?  Not unlike the old joke about how does one get to Carnegie Hall…Practice, Practice, and Practice.
Actually, that’s not exactly true.  If your teacher is not skilled, you can practice until your feet fall off and you won’t develop great technique.  I had a series of lessons, both group and private, with many different teachers over a period of about 20 years and was stuck in a rut of being an advanced skier.  I was never going to be an expert skier.  I was able to make parallel turns under perfect conditions.  I could more or less handle any slope, but not with a high degree of confidence or elegance.  I wasn’t making progress.  I was going to be a hack skier the rest of my life.  I was gazing longingly at those on the slopes that could gracefully master any terrain, their movements so fluid and beautiful.  How I dreamed and wished that one day I would be able to do the same.  However, I had pretty well resigned myself to the fact of life that, as one of my friends once said after watching me ski, “fat, Jewish, kids from New York don’t ski like that.”  Then I met Mike Bartasuis.

More from the interview with Ira Riklis. We have heard about his thoughts on skiing and life, his first experiences, and the importance of being able to stop on skis. But how did he learn his technique? He told us:

“So how does a fat, New York, non-athletic Jew learn to be such a talented skier?  Not unlike the old joke about how does one get to Carnegie Hall: Practice, Practice, and Practice.

“Actually, that’s not exactly true. If your teacher is not skilled, you can practice until your feet fall off and you won’t develop great technique. I had a series of lessons, both group and private, with many different teachers over a period of about 20 years and was stuck in a rut of being an advanced skier. I was never going to be an expert skier.  I was able to make parallel turns under perfect conditions.  I could more or less handle any slope, but not with a high degree of confidence or elegance.  I wasn’t making progress.  I was going to be a hack skier the rest of my life.

“I was gazing longingly at those on the slopes that could gracefully master any terrain, their movements so fluid and beautiful.  How I dreamed and wished that one day I would be able to do the same.  However, I had pretty well resigned myself to the fact of life that, as one of my friends once said after watching me ski, “fat, Jewish, kids from New York don’t ski like that.”  Then I met Mike Bartasuis.

What happens next to Ira Riklis? See the next post for more.