Who in their right mind would learn to ski at age 65? A man with a mission and that man happens to be my husband – Jay. He never learned to ski as a kid even though he grew up about an hour away from the ski resorts at Lake Tahoe, California. His family didn’t ski – they were avid golfers and played virtually year round. None of his childhood friends skied so he never thought much about it, until now that is.
His motivation is a little pig-tailed three year old named Norah (our granddaughter). You see, Jay doesn’t want to be the grandfather waiting in the lodge for everyone to finish skiing – not that the lodge isn’t nice — but he wants her to remember them skiing together. He wants to share memories of mugs steaming with hot chocolate and marshmallows at Cushing’s Cabin.
In order to do that he needs to be good enough to not just to ski the mountain himself but to be able to take care of her safely also – follow her through the trees if need be. He knows has a long way to go since he is starting at square one but that’s not stopping him.
There is no better time than the present to get started so he signed up for a Max – 4 “first time on skis” lesson and was greeted by Deer Valley ski instructor, Peggy Philbrick who just so happens to love first time skiers. He was joined by a couple fellow novices for the lesson – Danya from Las Vegas and Megan from Birmingham, Alabama who were both excited to learn to ski.
Peggy made Jay completely comfortable from the minute he clicked his boots into the bindings and headed to the skier conveyor where first time skiers move to the top of the run. Peggy explained the importance of rising up to a standing position with skis parallel and letting them float down the hill. Then after gaining speed slow down by using the wedge. These novices repeated this time after time to really feel the experience of skiing while adding in right and left turns. In a little over an hour, they were making nice wedge turns and skiing in control. Jay came home tired but very happy from the lesson.
The next day, Jay and I skied together to practice his new skills on the gradual slope of the Wide West beginner run at Snow Park. I followed him watching in amazement at how he maneuvered his turns around the cones — practicing his turns. He looked so relaxed! I could tell that he will be a pro in no time not just because of his determination but because he really was having fun out there.
Since we moved to Park City, inevitably the topic of skiing comes up with just about everyone we talk with. Surprisingly, I have heard more than one person say they don’t ski because they are too old. Too old? I am not talking about sixty year olds here, these are forty year olds talking to me. Really? Too old? Maybe they have no idea that age is a state of mind.
To me, being young means:
* being open to new experiences.
* skiing during a snow storm to experience fresh powdery snow.
* riding the lift when it is five degrees out and seeing snow speckles resembling diamonds.
Being young means learning to ski at 65 and carrying a little girl wearing her princess ski helmet to the car after a magical day of skiing with her grandfather who learned to ski just for her.


The sign of a well-skied powder day exists in my mud room: gear is laid out everywhere, drying.
I was a race mom again this past weekend and it was great! I think the best part of the weekend race was seeing Lucas aka “Billy Goat” hobble up to the start on crutches to get his little brother organized. He didn’t think I could help (so be it). You can see in the pictures Stefan listened to his brother and big brother was right there cheering him on.
Lucas has had a great attitude even though he has been benched for a few weeks due to his broken leg. All he says every day is, “I want to ski”. Always having a positive attitude will pay off in the end.
Lucas will be on the slopes soon and the brothers will be back to challenging one another. Ohh the joys of having boys! They just don’t realize Mom can still play.
To be perfectly frank, I don’t like the title to this essay. It’s borderline trite, fairly vague, and leads to some pretty personal emotions. But, I cannot get those words out of my head this week. Since they popped up they have been pushing and pushing on me to write; although I am intimidated by the prospect.
At 22 I found myself finishing several successful deployments in the military service and unsure how to move forward. Skiing and I had taken a break for those four years, seeing each other infrequently, each changing in important ways. I missed it, so I packed my sea bag and moved to the Wasatch Mountains, skiing in the Rockies for the first time and quickly falling in love again. Along the way I met a beautiful woman that worked for a local lodge, carelessly living and loving in the way that only 23 year old’s can. As my second winter season ended, the riptide current of life pulled us apart, heartbroken and theatrically sad. Another person gone yet skiing remained.
I did not stop skiing, but I treated it as a mistress. Something hidden and not shared with the ones I loved, believing that it was mine alone. When the recession began (does anyone remember that?), and my world was dismantled one possession at a time, I tried to turn to the mountains again, but the rolling green hills of Appalachia were no longer enough. With everything gone, but the love of my family and some very close friends, I began to miss my old flame. Her mountains reaching above the clouds to the bluest sky I had ever witnessed, the comforting embraces of her deep, light snow, the whispered sweet nothings as I flew between the spruce and the fir. I knew that to love I must live, and to live I had to go back to the mountains of Utah.
A year has passed since returning, and the love affair I began with skiing as a child is in its twenty fourth year. We have seen each other grow and change, enduring periods of separation and doubt. Through our relationship there have been celebrations and tragedies along with friends made and lost, but in the end we haven’t lost that spark, that feeling you get when you open your eyes and know you will spend the day in love. Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope it’s full of love and fresh snow!
Marilyn Stinson is Deer Valley’s Tour and Travel International Marketing Manager. Yet before, during and just after the annual FIS Freestyle Ski World Cup, she becomes the Chief of Volunteers for this acclaimed sporting event. Marilyn has been assigned to that event position since 1999. During that period of time, she has gone through one Olympic Games, two World Championships and every single World Cup event. Currently, she is responsible for around 220 volunteers without whom the event wouldn’t be possible.
But, you’re not just doing the job of Chief of Volunteers all year round; what’s your regular position at Deer Valley?
Who are your volunteers, where do they come from?
I’ve written before about the magic that comes from meeting friends on the ski hill. 




As my instructor, Mary Lou, rode the lift with my group to our first run, I explained my challenges with speed (which were obvious from the warm up) and my goal of enjoying intermediate runs with my friends. Her reply took me by surprise, “You need to slow down to speed up.” Instead of skiing fast, we worked on controlling speed using the entire turn. I had been doing quick back-and-forth stop-and-start turns which were not working at all.
The 2013 FIS Freestyle Ski World Cup events just finished up at Deer Valley Resort and it reminded me of the good old days.
So great job everyone!