Relax. You’re in good hands. This article has been written by someone who has
sorted out his life, prioritised his goals, efficiencised his methods and
improved his turns no end in the process.
I’ve just come off the slopes after a life-coach skiing lesson, and now,
bursting with confidence, I’m going to take you from the top of the article
here, down the precipitous slope to the conclusion, way down there at the
bottom of the page.
Easy-peasy.
A what lesson? It’s like this.
Traditionally, a ski instructor will instruct you about skiing. And a life
coach will coach you about issues in your life. But in our multitasking
times, this seems a little lacking in enterprise, so the ski company Pollen
Brooks has come up with a 21st-century solution: shrinks on skis.
There’s a logic to it. Here’s the theory. Winter sports take you out of your
comfort zone, to the edge of your nerve and ability. They’re scary. And the
way you face your fears and tackle a challenge on the piste has a lot in
common with the way you cope with tricky areas in your life. It’s when
you’re on the edge, metaphorically and literally, that you find out what
you’re made of - which is just what life coaching is all about. See?
No, I wasn’t sure I did either, but I was willing to give it a try. In fact, I
reckon I’m the ideal candidate. I don’t want to go too deeply into what
therapy-type people would call my “life issues” – you’ve probably got
problems of your own - but suffice to say, it’s not going quite to plan.
That era-defining great British novel? Still at the preconcept stage. The
cherished ambition to row the length of the Thames? When I find the time to
learn to row properly, I’ll get started. Keeping up important friendships?
I’ve been so busy lately... and so on.
Okay, I know they sound like a fairly standard bunch of midlife-crisis
whinges. But that just proves that even my low self-esteem has low
self-esteem. Plus, I’m a lousy skier.
Which is why I’m standing with the life coach Damien Churton at the top of a
blue run in Chamonix. It’s not hard. Even I can see that. But it is a little
steep, and my boots are tight, and... and... I’m a total scaredy-cat. I’d
sooner talk about my childhood traumas, thank you.
Not a chance. “First things first. I’m just going to watch you ski,” says
Damien. “Your style says a lot about you. Off you go.”
And what mine says is “This man skis like a turnip”. I snowplough down
gracelessly, slipping and cursing. Damien zips expertly down to join me at
the bottom, and says: “Well, what did you make of that?”
“I’m not very good, and I should have skied faster.”
