CR UX 10 B Y 10 S Words KADE KRICHKO REPETITION IS A GATEWAY to meditation. Its ca-dence provides us with security and allows us to connect with a feeling of belonging. Skiers know this sensation bet-ter than most, a left turn arcing into a right, returning left and swooping right for all of eternity (or at least until the bottom of Widowmaker). The Farmer at Alta has mastered the craft, linking rows of squiggles and transforming low-angle slopes into a Zen garden that makes even Buddhist monks blush. But if ski meditation had a Shangri-la, it exists far from Little Cottonwood Canyon and closer to Boston. There, on the 1,000-foot flanks of Wachusett Mountain, exists a ski group so dedicated to the power of routine that their very name describes their practice. This is the home of the 10 by 10s. Their ideology is simple: Ski 10 runs by 10 a.m.—no more, no less—and call it a day. In the Northeast, where bullwheeels spin at 8 a.m., that means two straight hours of lift-serviced laps, cranking out hard, fast groomers and covering exposed skin when the mercury (often) dips. The original movement was borne out of necessity, a group of dads stealing turns while their kids attended ski school and, eventually, ski team. Drop the little ones off, ski like mad, and pick them up while feeling an overwhelming sense of calm. It was a good system, so good that when the kids moved on to college and the promise of bigger mountains, the 10 by 10s stayed—and the tradition bloomed. Colter Hinchliffe makes each turn worth it on a sunny morning at Alta, UT. Photo: Chris Whitaker Today, the group is easy to spot, a dozen-deep squad of bombers cranking down 10th Mountain Trail or Smith Walton, racing an invisible clock while the rest of the ski hill slowly settles into its groove for the day. Despite its surface structure, this is hardly a military operation, and lift rides are spent catching up on a week’s worth of family, work and extracurriculars. Repetition has made these conversations easier and each face more familiar—if only for a few hours. There’s a simple brilliance to the methodology, an OK-ness with having a really good day, instead of endlessly seeking to have the best day ever. Ten runs has been an integral element of that equation. It’s a product of practice, the perfect equilibrium of leg-burn and early morning stoke, minus the threat of late-in-the-day injury or adverse conditions. Ski less and risk leaving unsat-isfied. Ski more and deal with crowds and feeling the slopes deteriorate under your feet. The 10 by 10s will make exceptions to any rule (they have, in fact, skied other runs during different parts of the day), but their collective clock it set to fresh corduroy. They know the tasty grooves of granular are temporary, that the best things in life are often short-lived. The ridged surface is equivalent to a surfer’s morning offshores, a predictable canvas that lets the 10 by 10s carve out their own inner peace. By the time the corduroy is gone, so are they—content with having had their fill and ready to start the cycle over tomorrow. 024 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 17, Issue 2: Page 24
