“Wouldn’t it be ironic if you got this new ski and there wasn’t any snow in Tahoe this year?” Travis joked, well aware of the journey behind the ski in my living room and how stoked I was to get it on the mountain.

Well, that was the beginning of December and as unlikely as it seemed then that there hadn’t been any significant snowfall, you can well imagine how loudly that ridiculous rhetorical question was ringing in my ears up until two weeks ago when we at last got a storm that brought some much needed white stuff to the Sierras.

Now whether or not that particular cold front (albeit not as cold as one might’ve liked) signals the end of our uber protracted summer and the opening of some tardy winter storm door, is yet to be seen (the following week’s heat would’ve seemed to suggest otherwise). But whether it does or it doesn’t, or whether or not some meteorological phenomenon keeps my newly stickered, modified ski out of the superpipe in 2012, or, just for the sake of an extreme example, whether or not I get to ski again—ever, isn’t going to kill my high. Not really.

Don’t get me wrong, I love skiing and I want to get on the mountain as soon as yesterday — stoke and adrenaline are as necessary to this quad body of mine as oxygen, sleep, organic farmer’s market veggies and my morning cup of coffee — but it’s not where my ultimate happiness comes from or what defines me (despite the number of folks who’d label me as a “surf/ski rat”. A labeling, mind you, I’d attribute more to my crazy hair than anything else).

No, skiing like the weather or the mountains or all that you can see and touch is situational and will come and go, and my true happiness, my joy, my love are not rooted in situations. And this understanding is tantamount to living this brief existence of ours on this planet with gratitude, fearlessness, wonder and peace.

I’ve written about this before, I know, but I look around me and I see a world that’s trying desperately to find meaning, happiness and peace in things that are situational. And none of these will be found there. Still, I believe the discovery of this understanding is inevitable for all of us, because we already possess it. But when one will discover this in their own lifetime, or what the catalyst will be, I can’t say, but it will happen — even if it’s with one’s last breath.

When Travis made the joke above, he pretty much knew where I was at with all this, which is why he asked it. We’ve been friends a long time and have been through a lot together. He knows me well, and he knows that I know that whether or not I get on the mountain this year is inconsequential in relation to what really matters. If it snows it snows, if it doesn’t it doesn’t. If I ski I ski, if I don’t I don’t. Whatever. It’s all good.

Weather Report

But let’s come back to this year’s whacky weather a sec. And let’s just say it doesn’t snow or rain again for the rest of this season, well, at the very least that’d be a story to tell, right? I mean, I’ve been in the Bay Area over 20 years and I’ve never seen anything like it. Now I know the planet is some 4.6 billion years old – give or take a few days – and I imagine, relatively speaking, this dry spell of ours probably isn’t such an odd thing on that timeline, but for us, the inconsequential, myopically focused little hiccups that we are, it is. And for a myriad of reasons.

But just as last year’s La Niña had us all dizzy and wet from the ridiculous amount of snowfall that was dumped on us, it’s probably best to appreciate this particular La Niña for the phenomenon it is; an extra sunny, warm, high-pressure forming, winter scarecrow. Or at least, that’s what this jonesing, snow starved, ginger quadriplegic is doing… in shorts, in winter, in Norcal and with an awe inspired grin on my face every time I head outside.

It certainly makes one stop a moment to take a look at the silliness of expectations, doesn’t it?

Phase 2 of my bi-ski modification: seat angle from Tony Schmiesing on Vimeo.

pau.

It’s begun… sort of. After an exceptionally clingy indian summer (which, for those keeping meteorological score at home, will mean another 60° plus sunny week ahead; a very odd, shorts wearing start to December), a couple of diminutive, fast-moving storms managed to sneak in, drop a little snow and the lifts of Tahoe began firing up.

Now whether or not any of that white stuff will stick around through the coming week is anyone’s guess, but the mere whiff of it has my adrenaline bubbling. Couple that with the arrival of my new bi-ski, and the chemical agitation in my bloodstream is a whole lot easier to relate to.

You get me now, don’t you?

Rocky Mountain High

As I alluded to in my previous post, I recently received a grant from the High Fives Foundation to have the seat/bucket of my ski orthotically modified by Ride Designs in Aspen, and at the beginning of November I flew out there for a week to have this done.

Having dealt with chronic pressure sore issues for just about all of my disabled life, and the pursuit of products, theories and “experts” that could solve/address these issues, what I experienced/participated in at Ride was a miraculous life changer. A combination of technology, engineering, philosophy, experience and kindness (yes, this matters too, as it translates to listening and empathy), I realized this system could go beyond my ski and onto my everyday acoustic and electric chairs. A very exciting thought.

But perhaps my biggest “I need to wrap my head around this” moment (aside from the fact that sitting in my completed ski was now more comfortable than my everyday chair) came when I first saw what I would actually be sitting on/in: a seat shell made of molded pre-expanded polystyrene (EPS) (okay, it’s a proprietary, supersecret type of EPS, the production of which I was asked not to even film, but still, for the sake of description, it looks a lot like the stuff that goes into filling 1970s beanbag chairs or what makes up those cheap styrofoam ice chests).

Now in the past, and currently (until this trip, anyway), the conventional wisdom and attack to solving the pressure issues of my extremely bony prominences (I’ve got ischial tuberosities like samurai swords) has always been to do it with the softest, most forgiving, flexible material possible. And this seems intuitively correct. Tremendously so. And for the most part it is — and even somewhat effective. But “somewhat effective” is just that, somewhat, and not the bar I’m striving for.

And while the “supersecret” EPS is indeed flexible, it’s magic, if you will, is more a twofold combination of malleability and how that malleability allows the designer to shape/create a seat that both hugs the contours of the body while offloading pressure from higher pressure areas to other areas that can handle it.*

And this is where the expertise, experience and creativity of the designer comes to play, because as functional as this material is on its own, it’s only the foundation of what makes this seating system so unique; time, study, shaping and reshaping are necessary to build the most effective offloading environment for an individual’s own particular needs (and we know, boys and girls, just how extreme mine are!).

So, after the initial mold/impression of my butt was made, and the seat was shaped to the shell of the ski, I literally spent the majority of my time in Ride’s warehouse sitting in my ski in order to get an accurate assessment of how the seat was performing and where, if any, redness was occurring – not just on my problem areas, but the areas where the pressure was being offloaded to as well; a delicate dance of nuance, to be sure, especially given that I was tightly strapped in, which adds even more back and downward pressure to the mix.

By the end of the week, after this back-and-forth of getting in and out of the ski, checking my skin, tweaking the shape of the cushion (adding or subtracting foam as needed), I was at last sitting comfortably for 3 1/2 hours with next to no redness on my problem areas whatsoever (and this was without any pressure relief)!

Milagros

I used the word “miraculous” above and I want to come back to that. For those who know me, you know how much of my life is dictated by the condition of my bony ass i.e. how much time can I spend on it in my chair before I need to stay off of it for a protracted amount of time. There’s no mystery as to why the first thing anybody asks me when catching up is, “How’s your ass?” It’s a barometer by which my day to day activities can be determined. I don’t see it is good or bad anymore, simply the parameters by which I live.

At one point at Ride, while looking at my ski, it hit me very deeply just how game changing, next level s**t all of this was. Certainly my skiing experience was about to change – that was obvious – and not just for the simple fact I could stay on the mountain longer or that my performance level would now be unbounded (I can only imagine how cool this will be), but because of everything that led up to that moment – everything.

The “miraculous” was in the fact that I could ski at all, that I had friends and family who shared in my stoke and were behind me to make it happen, that this technology exists, and that somebody was creative, imaginative and skilled enough to apply it in an area that is so critical/important to my life, that a foundation of people — who didn’t know me personally but understood my passion — gave so generously, that people supported the foundation, and that I live, really live, to feel all of this so deeply, and am able to resonate with an eternal gratitude.

The snow has yet to truly fall in the Sierras, sure, and I’ve yet to make a single carve on my new ski, but as far as I’m concerned the celebration of miracles and wonders has begun!

High Fives Foundation Winter Empowerment introduction video for Tony Schmiesing from Tony Schmiesing on Vimeo.

pau.

*The material is also water resistant and performs exceptionally well in the cold. Hey, it’s nice to maintain a warm butt.

Since my accident, I’ve had this unshakable desire to get vert again, to recapture that weightless feeling I got from surfing or skating ramps and pools. And while I’ve done the requisite imaginary off-the-top carve on slight banks in my wheelchair, all great imagination aside, it’s not quite the same thing, and certainly not something I’d try on anything steeper than 20°, as the center of gravity in my chair, especially given my height and lack of muscle control, is too high.

So the question that keeps bouncing back then is; how to go about it? Part of the problem – somewhat significantly, actually – is my level of injury and the anatomical disadvantages I have by not being able to use my trunk or back muscles for balance and support. This is critical, because without being able to counter balance my body against the forces of gravity, I’d ultimately be pulled down by it. Which, if the surface waiting to greet me is cement (as in a skate park), wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun.

So I’ve always seen my success in this endeavor as being one dependent on equipment and design. The only way it would work with my disability is having something with a stable low center of gravity that I was tightly strapped into.

And then last winter it hit me… a bi-ski… the Superpipe. That’s how I’d do it – I’d charge the Superpipe at Northstar in a bi-ski! I was surprised the idea hadn’t come to me before, I mean it seemed so obvious (to me anyway), but then I suppose that’s the way ideas are; they come when they come and no sooner. But seriously, it couldn’t be more perfect; it’s the right vert terrain coupled with exactly the kind of equipment I was looking for. And it was all, well, right under my ass!

Now I don’t know if any quad with a level of injury as high as mine (let alone not in their teens or 20s) has attempted something like this before, and it may be a bit out there as far as ideas go, but I’m psyched to give it a shot and see what happens.

I’ve been doing this bi-ski thing for almost 4 years now and I have it pretty dialed in. If I’m paired with the right ski partner on the teathers, someone up to the task to push things, I feel stoked and compelled to see where my limits are and blow past them every time I’m on the mountain.

Because of this, I’ve developed a good understanding of how my equipment should perform.  Up to this point, however, the skis I’ve been renting/using, while certainly functional, are simply that, functional, and less than ideal where my own particular needs and skills are concerned.  Attempting the Superpipe in this equipment or skiing another season is probably doable, but I’m not shooting for “functional” or “doable” – I’m going beyond that.

So back into the world of customization I go.  I’ve decided to get my own ski, tweak it as much as possible for performance and have Ride, an orthotic seating company out of Colorado that specializes in adaptive sports equipment, fabricate me a customized bucketseat and restraint system which would be both more secure and pressure sore resistant.  Being the tall, skinny dude that I am, not to mention the specifics of my spinal cord injury, the importance of these two things can’t be overstated; it takes me around 45 min. just to deal with both to get properly situated in the ski.

And though it’s a critical 45 min., to be sure, involving a lot of Tetris-like cushion movement/placement to try to minimize the possibility of pressure sores while in turn hunting down straps and restraints to keep my ass securely back and in the ski (a semi-futile attempt at best) on those steeper runs I like to crush, it’s still 45 min. that’s subtracted from my time on the mountain. And when I’m only able to ski 2 1/2 hours to begin with, before the seriousness of pressure sores start to rear their ugly heads, that’s a significant chunk of time.

In the same way that long-term wheelchair users — especially high-level quadriplegics — need customized wheelchairs and seating, the same is definitely true of adaptive sports equipment; maybe more so given what’s being asked of the equipment.  A modified seating system alone would be a bow-down-before-the-mountain-snow-gods-in-reverence-and-gratitude kind of change my skiing experience has been jonesing for.

But like I said, I’d also like to make tweaks to the performance side of the ski as well. But how many I’ll be able to make to the model I plan on purchasing, we’ll have to see. Probably not many given the design and construction of these things, but it’s a good place to start.

Ultimately – meaning soon, I hope – I plan on co-designing/building a bi-ski from the ground up. To take the general principles/mechanics that already work and use them as a jumping off point to create something more performance oriented for skiers with the similar challenges I encounter.

But like all things customized – especially those things which relate to paralysis; wheelchairs, orthotics, medical supplies, travel, technology, sports – the costs can be prohibitive (and let’s face it, insurance companies ain’t about to put up for a bi-ski anytime soon. Although, they probably should given the amount of healthy stoke that comes along at no extra charge, not to mention the benefits of intoxicating mountain air).

And while I deeply understand that money will always work itself out one way or another if we just let go of expectations and perceived outcomes of what life might be like with or without it, I’m also intimately aware of the need for prioritization of it in my own life. Which is to say, none of the cool stuff I’m talking about above would be possible if it weren’t for the blessed assistance of others.

To this end, in April I received a grant from the Challenged Athletes Foundation in San Diego that will partially pay for a bi-ski and just last week I received word that the High Fives Foundation in Tahoe will be giving me a grant for the very critical, yet very expensive, customized seating and restraint system from Ride, as well as assist me in making the Superpipe at Northstar this season a crazy dream-come-true reality.

To say I’m deeply grateful and moved by the gestures these two organizations have shown me, not just financially but by ideologically supporting something that’s so dear to my soul, would be an understatement and no doubt come up ridiculously short in expressing just how to-the-core moved I am. Nevertheless, this is the means of expression I have and so I’ll say it again; I’m deeply deeply grateful and moved!

But I’d also like to thank all the folks who contributed to these organizations as well, because as a part of a nonprofit myself, I understand that without their generosity these life changing organizations (and that’s not hyperbole) wouldn’t be able to support the athletes that they do.

And so there you have it, I hope I wasn’t being too cryptic in my last post about the specialness of this upcoming ski season, but you know me, I like to live as much in the moment as I can and let the future work itself out. Still, I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I feel like I just woke up to a bluebird sunshiny day with 2 feet of fresh powder awaiting me on the mountain.

Let it snow!

Oh, and please think about checking out the foundations I mentioned. Mahalo.

High Fives Foundation

Challenged Athletes Foundation

pau.

September is here and with it comes the symbolic end to summer and the arrival of shorter, cooler days. And while for us here in the San Francisco Bay Area, the summer of 2011 was all about the cooler days, and probably won’t be lodged in anyone’s memory as being particularly summer-like, we do have the consolation that our real summer – indian summer – has only just begun and thus begins another opportunity to clock in some shorts time. Now whether or not this happens this year is anyone’s guess – it’s been that wacky of a year — but however it plays out, I’m good either way.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love it to be, say, a constant 80° for the next few months —  I’m a quadriplegic after all and my DNA’s not that far from an iguana’s (I function a whole lot better if I’ve been able to sun myself on a warm rock for a few hours to get my blood warm) — but just the same, over the last 5 years, September, and it’s symbolic designation as the end of summer, has taken on some additional symbolism for me: the not too far off arrival of winter storms and the opening of ski season!

But unlike years previous, the ski season of 2011/2012 (assuming my agenda lines up with life’s) is looking to be pretty special. Among other things, it follows an off-season two years ago where my spinal surgery kept me off the mountain and a truncated trial season last year in which I was kind of feeling things out to see how my neck would handle the bump and grind of bi-skiing. Both of those, different as they were — the first being a lesson in detachment and the second a celebration of gratitude — are reason enough to be stoked about what might lay ahead.

In the meantime, I’ll keep l-i-v-i-n in the moment with the understanding that Sierra snow is likely on the way!

… to be continued.

pau.