Thursday, March 23

The Guru

By Aaron Martin

Along Lake Tahoe's shore, a meandering path leads to a particularly rocky expanse of beach. If you follow it and look out to the waterline, you may see a lone figure down by the Lake's edge. That figure holds the title of the ultimate ski guru. A beach may seem like a strange place for an individual such as this to frequent, but never the less, you can find him there in any season, on almost any given day. His knowledge about skiing and life is vast and effortless. His coaching is second to none. And he is an incredible athlete, holding talents, discipline, and secrets key to success in this sport.

But you can not look up his stats on EXPN. You can not watch him rip sick lines in Alaska or race the Hannenkaum. And most bizarre of all, you will never see him turn because he doesn't even ski. You can not email him, or ask his advice. He doesn't sign autographs. And he will not understand your language. He is not even particularly interested in teaching you anything. But I assure you, he is the one...

You can learn alot from a dog like thata ski guru dog that islike Marley. I know because he has taught me many things. I watched him today and was reminded of something wonderful. But sadly, this wonderful thing also seems to be sliding downhill in this sport as fast as many of us. What I saw was genuine passion. And lately, more and more, I have watched it become second on the listover-ruled by seemingly more respected things like fame, glory, and magazine cover shots. It concerns me that, in certain circles, people have become much more concerned about their ski careers, seeing themselves in the lights, and becoming Jonny Mosely than just enjoying the turn.

There is a new wave of athlete whose roots and involvement with skiing and snowboarding is entirely based upon obtaining the hero status. And I wonder about this strange group of people I see at the mountain. I watch them standing in their little packs, with the right people, in the right gear, saying the right thingsego-spray flying like the sprinklers on Wrigley's Field. It is ten o'clock in the morning on a powder day and they are still standing there, their heads spinning, wondering who is watching them, and where the photographers are. They look lost. I wonder if they will ever know another side to the mountains. I hope for it.

Lucky for me though, today I got to see beyond the martinis and the television coverage and into the true color of skiing. I was witness once again, to what it is all about. I watched an athlete completely engrossed in his sport, purely out of his love for it. His tongue flapping in the wind, tail arcing mad circles, as his stoke radiated down the lake shore. That guru dog embodies my dream for the entire world of skiers.

This chocolate lab is the very definition of what it means to be truly passionate about the gamewithout the people aroundwith zero notoriety. Not only does he love what he does with every bone in his body, Marley has even gone as far as to invent his own sport. Marley is not a skier. He is a dog. And actually he could give a sh*t about skiing because there is something much more important to him. His one love? His heart and soul? Welcome to the world of Rock Diving. Yup. Rocks, Water, and Teeth together equal a serious sport for Marley. But believe me, even though his pursuit sounds very far removed from arcing down mountains in winter, skiers and other athletes stand to learn alot from the deliberate life of this brown dog.

Over the years, through discipline, he has taught himself to dive twelve feet under for small pieces of granite. During that time, nothing has held him back from his pursuitsnot his injuries, laughter from the peanut gallery, or his lack of recognition. His love of rocks stands above it all.

His body is evidence of the time spent pioneering the Rock Diving scene; his teeth are flat from the years. They have suffered like a skier's knees. His eyes are bloodshot. And the water inside of his ears is something he can never seem to quite get rid of. He gets hurt, rests, rehabs, and then goes back out to do it again. Like any other athlete true to his sport, nothing can ever take him away.

And just like a real skier, his dreams are constantly about the perfect day. His legs kick violently in his sleep and his eyes roll back in his head as he envisions his next big launch. He is a junkie; it is in him for good. He gazes out at the water from the car like a skier gawking at a beautiful peak. He is not particularly interested in sticks or Frisbees. But he will deal with them like a skier will deal with groomers at Vail if that's is the only option.

His sport is what it is all about. It is Marley's reason for living. And he will do this alone, in a storm, without any cameras or groupies. He could care less if you or anyone else ever saw him do it. And if he had his wishes, he would be out there every day, charging as hard as possible and loving it. Some of us could learn enormous things from just that.

My advice? In light of the ever increasing Hollywood ski world, the movies, the photos, The X-games. The sponsorship stuff. The competition and the "scene" everywhere from Tahoe to Whistlertake a look at Marley. Take a look at yourself. Where are you? If you consider yourself a full time skier or would like to be one, whether you are a fully sponsored pro with a new truck and a huge salary or one of those people in those weird packs waiting for the photo dude, remember the guru. Ask yourself what would happen if you took out the potential fame and the glory. If all you had were these incredible mountains, would you still go? What if no one even knew you skied?

Test yourself. Put on some old bent boards and duct taped pants. Go throttle some stupid-steep line with a huge huck in the middle of it, in a storm, by yourself. No one there. Alone. And never tell another soul about it. As long as you are truly in it for yourself, and you can acknowledge there is a point where you can loose the balance of it all, you are where you should be. Go out and do whatever it is that keeps you going. Compete, film, shoot, teach, guide, patrol, or just ski by yourself because skiing is a part of who you are.

If however, during this test, you feel like you need to tell someone how rad you are or you find yourself wishing someone was documenting your performance for your career, perhaps its time to hang up the boards and audition for Vogue Magazine, time to hang out with dudes that wear eyeliner. And if you know you've simply gotten lost in it all and want to get it back, may I suggest you take some free coaching from the soul of sport. From a guru I know. His name is Marley. You can find him on the beach. Alone. In the rain. He loves rocks as much as, I hope, we all love skis.

Til next-

Big-A.