The Mounting Shame of the Non-Skier

Published October 23, 2007

By Lauren Foley

In light of the frightening amounts of frost we have witnessed in the past days (I swear it was there), I have begun to prepare for winter. For most of us, winter evokes happy childhood memories consisting of building snowmen, drinking hot chocolate, and watching cheesy television specials of Frosty the Snowman. This is a given. However, as adults, the onset of the winter season no longer excites us like it did when we were children.

Instead of talking snowmen and an endless slew of snow days, we are faced with scraping frost from our windshields and fearing frostbite while walking to class. That is, of course, unless you are one of the many at UVM who enjoys skiing or snowboarding. In that case, winter is one long, chilly celebration and you’re here to party.

In fact, whenever I mention where I attend school, someone will inevitably remark, “You must ski.” Somehow, it is the common notion that if I attend UVM, a university located close to several ski venues, I am an avid skier or snowboarder. After all, why else would I choose to attend this school?

In the sad minority, I admittedly do not ski or snowboard, and it has come to represent a problem in my life as a UVM student. Many of my peers anxiously await the snowy season and are ecstatic when it finally arrives. On the weekends, alarms are carefully set, equipment is packed, cars are loaded, and snow bunnies are born. All of this occurs as I stare out my window with jealousy, and begin to think that an afternoon of sledding would be a good idea, though I know in my heart what a sad, pathetic replacement it would be. Suddenly, I am aware of what it feels like to be an outsider.

Truth be told, skiing is not something I have outwardly shunned in the past. As a child, I tried skiing and truly enjoyed it, zipping around on the bunny slope, gripping the rope to get to the top over and over again. But I never had the time to commit to lessons and didn’t end up trying it again until I was 13. Unfortunately, with the carelessness and recklessness of childhood behind me, skiing was no longer as easy as I recalled it to be. I was awkward and overly cautious, and even managed to get whacked from behind by the ski-lift, causing me to go sprawling forward, lose my poles, and warrant the ski-lift control guy to pick me up off the ground and set me upright. The embarrassment and shame of that moment resulted in my swearing that I would never try skiing again. And I was content with this decision…until I went off to college.

But who could have predicted that I would attend UVM, one of the nation’s best known universities in terms of the close proximity to mountains. Even as an Orientation Leader this summer, I quickly realized that some students didn’t really care about learning how to register for classes, they wanted to know where it would be cheapest to get a snowboarding season pass. At which point, I would direct them to another OL, feeling inadequate and judged based on the fact that I didn’t ski or snowboard. In their eyes, I was a freak, a deviant, a sad representation of the typical UVM student. Again, I was ashamed.

Now that I am in my junior year, I’ve finally accepted the fact that I will never be one of those people who counts down the days to winter. I will never be part of the elusive Ski and Snowboarders’ Club or have one of those funny card things attached to my coat zipper, a silent indicator of my “coolness”. Many people choose to adhere to the stereotype of the UVM skier/snowboarder and that is their right. However, as a way of compensating for my contempt of extreme winter sports, I will consider myself progressive and take solace in the fact that by not being a skier, I am going against the grain. I will do my best to stand tall and be proud of my shameful UVM status. Perhaps I’ll dig out my sled, or even better, my snowshoes, where no violent chair lifts are required. Yes, I will try to make this work. I will venture outdoors in the dead of winter and good times will be had. After all, who wants to wear those goofy goggles anyway? Not me.

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