A gaper is a clueless skier, usually defined by their blue jeans tucked into their ski boot, open jacket, and gap between their googles, beanie, and helmet.
I moved out to Colorado in 2010, landed a job on the ski slopes, and aspired to be a part-time ski bum. My skiing experience involved high school springs breaks with friends and family. I had a mere 20 days of skiing under my belt, practically a pro. Upon my move to Colorado, I rented a pair of skis and boots for the season, donned my trusty five-year-old jacket and pants, and declared myself ready to riiiiiide.
The first time I rode the ski lift with my new co-workers, I couldn't help but notice their shiny new skis, colorful jackets, and snowboard gloves tailored for well, skiing and snowboarding – they looked like seasoned skiers, and indeed, they could ski. While I could handle the blue runs with ease, when we ventured onto the black runs covered in powder, my lack of technical prowess was laid bare. I found myself straddling two worlds: half in the gaper realm and half in the world of skilled skiers. I couldn't help but think, "Damn, I'm a gaper."
The next week I received an invitation to join my co-workers for a powder day at Vail – one of the perks of working on the ski slopes is having access to the surrounding resorts. I knew I was a gaper; I looked like one, felt like one, and to some extent, skied like one. Nevertheless, a friend from the ski lifts urged, "Dude, just come along. I'll teach you." They genuinely wanted me to join them and patiently guided me through skiing in knee-deep powder, waiting for me at the lifts as I navigated my way down the challenging black runs. As I prepared for that morning trip to Vail, I had a thought: maybe I should wait for my first paycheck and invest in some new gear. I convinced myself that not looking like a gaper would make me feel better, but I soon realized the truth.
Rather than missing out and waiting for new gear, my new co-workers and friends, following that eventful powder day in Vail, were more than willing to help me improve. In fact, they went out of their way throughout the season to coach me down steep and technical terrain.
I learned an essential lesson – the importance of maintaining a beginner's mindset. In Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ), we refer to it as a white belt mindset, always remaining open to learning. My status as a gaper was evident, and I had nothing to hide behind. I was an unmistakable beginner when compared to my friends with years of skiing experience. Because I was open, vulnerable, and maintained a white belt mentality, they took it upon themselves to teach me, and I learned fast. By the end of the season, I was skiing with confidence, leaping off cliffs, and navigating deep powder. When you approach something new with an ego, it becomes more challenging to learn and be receptive to instruction, and the energy you project suggests that you aren't eager to learn – consequently, people are less inclined to teach you.
So, where in life is your ego trying to keep you safe, projecting that you have this all figured out when in fact you should embrace your blue jeans and Carhart overalls? Put your ego aside, be vulnerable and let more skilled mentors expedite your learning process. Its far better to be a skilled skier that looks like a gaper than the most stylish on the mountain that can't ski.
Thanks for reading! Share this with one of your friends who still wears a onesie from the 80s.