Having read many posts and selfie videos from fellow skiers, as well as numerous ski tutorials and demonstration videos, and drawing from my own skiing experiences, I’d like to share my understanding and insights about skiing with other enthusiasts.
Insight one: Why do people spend heaps of money, time, and enthusiasm — even risk taking tumbles and going to great lengths — just to go skiing? Needless to say, it’s to seek that “gliding on snow” feeling and thrill on the slopes. Everyone dreams of being like a “falling leaf,” freely “floating” across the snowy surface.
The so-calledfree ski , at its core, is all about that one word: “float.” Things like giant slalom or slalom are concepts for sports competitions. For a skiing enthusiast, being able to turn while “floating,” glide joyfully, bounce high while “floating,” move however you like, unrestrained, “float” in a way that feels good to you and looks good to others — that should be the highest realm of skiing.
As for whether your movements are technically correct or your posture is standard, there’s absolutely no need to fuss over it, let alone deliberately try to match some so-called “professional level.”
In truth, as long as you’re comfortable “floating” and it looks good to others, your movements and posture are definitely right — they’re “standard.” Because your goal in skiing is simply to “float,” whereas competitive skiing is all about speed and being the first to cross the finish line. So, the technical standards between the two are bound to differ. You could even say that compared to “floating,” some so-called “professional techniques” are actually wrong, while yours are right. As long as you feel you’re “floating” comfortably, others will see you bubbling with joy.
Of course, if the ski resort’s chairlifts are more appealing to you than the slopes, and you’re always rushing to grab a seat first, that’s a different story.
Insight two: For skiing enthusiasts, there’s no greater enemy than skiing technique itself. The enemy is terrifying because you can’t find a way to defeat it. Though any random coach or tutorial can tell you how to position your legs or move your hips, you’ll never truly find your “position.” Why? Because you don’t know your body has something called “proprioception”; because the “proprioception” formed by neural reflexes is only accustomed to having you stand, never to having you “tilt”; because you don’t realize your body is naturally the best “skiing coach,” while your brain just gets in the way, filling you with fears and worries.
Do you believe it? If you can train your “proprioception” to get used to being “tilted” rather than “upright,” you’ll instantly become a skiing pro.
How can you get your “proprioception” used to being “tilted” rather than “upright”?
It’s simple: from the moment you step onto the ski slope, keep telling yourself: you’re not here to ski, you’re here to pay to fall; the more you fall, the better your money’s spent; on the slopes, your brain is useless, being clueless is heroic, and having a brain makes you a fool.
In fact, after just a few falls, your body stops being used to being “upright.” Because your extrapyramidal system will quickly help you establish new motor reflexes and form “muscle memory.”
Disable your brain, overcome the fear, and your body will naturally sort out the technical issues for you while in the “tilted” state. Because your body’s “proprioception” will constantly help you find your new “position.”
So, “falling” is the only fundamental skill in skiing — dare to “tilt,” and you can “float.”
In reality, the real obstacle preventing you from “tilting” is your own overthinking brain.
Many people who’ve skied for years without improving all suffer from this.
Conversely, the reason ski resorts can make money is that they know people come here and turn into clueless “fools.” No wonder they say one day of skiing relaxes you for a whole year.
Insight three: Since the purpose of skiing is to “float,” then how to “float,” how to “float” comfortably, and how to “float” beautifully should be the core issues of skiing technique.
Though skiing techniques may seem flashy and varied, they essentially boil down to how the body’s center of gravity moves dynamically — forward, backward, left, right, up, and down — during the forward motion.
The so-called “float” is, in the end, about swaying or gliding from side to side while sliding downhill.
During the “gliding” process, the more stable your center of gravity, the more comfortable you’ll feel; the larger and faster your “gliding” movements, the more impressive it looks to others.
Therefore, the amplitude, speed, and stability of the body’s center of gravity “gliding” should be the three core elements of skiing technique.
So, how can these three elements be perfectly unified?
Let’s analyze it.
During the “float,” the body is always controlled by three main forces.
The first force is generated by the slope of the ski run, pulling the body forward downhill. This force is decided by the earth, not your body.
The second force is generated by your own body, constantly trying to make you fall due to gravity. This force can be automatically regulated and controlled by your body’s neuromuscular system. Generally speaking, as long as you’re not skiing drunk, people can easily manage this force.
With these two forces, you could say anyone can learn to ski after taking a few tumbles. But strictly speaking, that’s just called “sliding.”
The key to "floating" lies in the third force. This is an active force generated by the person — a force that "pleads" to fall left or right. This is also the force people fear the most.
However, what people don’t realize is that the so-called "fear" is actually just the brain being afraid — the body itself is not afraid.
Don’t believe it? Just try it. During the descent (you need to have some speed), as long as you, on behalf of your body, tell your brain: "I want to fall — mind your own business!" and then forcibly tilt your body to the side, a miracle will immediately happen — you won’t fall; instead, you’ll turn sideways. In other words, you’ll instantly experience the feeling of "floating."
As long as your body dares to "fall" to the left, your ski will turn left; if you "fall" to the right, it will turn right.
In other words, whether you can learn to ski is actually just a matter of a single moment, not a matter of how many times or how many years.
Why? Because when your body tilts to one side, the first and second forces mentioned earlier will combine to produce a fourth force — centrifugal force. And as your body senses this centrifugal force, it will immediately automatically generate a fifth force — centripetal force — to counteract the centrifugal force, allowing your body to continue naturally and gracefully leaning until you become a "floating" Leaning Tower of Pisa, carving a beautiful arc or even a full circle into the snow (as long as you’re going fast enough).
Keep in mind, this is a fully automatic process — you don’t need to think about it or calculate it. Because everything is determined by human physiological mechanisms, or rather, by "instinct."
In fact, as long as you dare to say "no" to your brain, resolutely generate the third force, and, while leaning your body sideways, move your center of gravity as far forward as possible, you will naturally enter the realm of "floating." As for technical movements such as extension, edge release, edge engagement, rotation, carved turns, counter-stance, forward lean, rear pressure, or scrubbing, your extrapyramidal system will automatically handle them all for you — or, letting your brain lend a small helping hand occasionally won’t hurt either.
Of course, it’s inevitable that you’ll fall once or twice during this process. After all, battling the powerful force of gravity always comes with some tuition fees.
Also, regarding the amplitude of "floating" — theoretically speaking, swinging from side to side180degrees, allowing your body or legs to "float" parallel to the ground, turning yourself into a floating snowman or pendulum, would definitely be so stunning as to shock the world. Of course, no one could actually do it — but waddling your butt back and forth like some ski instructors, well, that’s definitely not pretty.
As for speed, the faster, the more beautiful it is. Go fast enough, and your body might even automatically help you pull off World Cup-level moves.
In truth, as long as your technique is solid, your extrapyramidal system can absolutely ensure your center of gravity stays aligned even at high speeds — but your brain is another story. The faster you go, the more you fear; the more you fear, the more your center of gravity shifts backward; and the more it shifts back, the more you fall.
So, once you notice your body involuntarily shifting its center of gravity backward, that’s the limit of what your mind can psychologically handle in terms of speed.
Afraid of speed? Use snowplow turns. Think it’s too slow? Go for carving. Want to show off? Try freestyle. All technical choices depend only on speed, slope angle, snow type, snow surface conditions, and your psychological tolerance. There are no fixed rules.
Of course, it must be emphasized: safety first, showing off second.
Fourth insight: Regarding big and small turns. Once again,free skiif it’s not competitive skiing, it’s still better to call them big turns and small turns, orLong Turns,Short Turusas that’s more appropriate.
The issue stems from the differing technical characteristics of big and small turns.
That is to say, during big turns, your body should be relatively upright and consistently facing the tips of your skis, whereas during small turns, your body should have an angle and consistently face the fall line. So what should you do for medium-sized turns?
Small turn technique emphasizes keeping the upper body still, in order to allow the lower body to swing as quickly as possible; whereas big turn technique involves making large turns, where keeping the upper body still would make you look like a crab. All techniques stem from competition rules.
Clearly,free skitechnically, you shouldn’t be restricted by competitive sports rules.
It’s just about "floating," isn’t it? Float however you want. I’ll make small turns with my body straight — who’s gonna say I’m breaking competition rules? When I go fast, I can keep my upper body still and make big turns — who’s gonna say it doesn’t look good? It’s certainly better than waddling your butt, right? So, skiers, there’s no need to get bogged down in so-called technical standards, making yourselves either stiff in the upper body or twisted in the lower body. Why bother?
In truth, just relax your body and float however you please. Who cares about keeping your legs together or apart, or whether you’re counter-stanced or not — the more expressive, the better it looks.
Principle: Don’t force it, don’t let your brain mess things up, stay relaxed and natural for true beauty.
Finally, a word about my skiing experience.
I am this year56At 60 years old, which is considered quite advanced in age, I was actually a complete novice on the ski slopes.
50It wasn’t until I was 61, when I attended a conference in Harbin and the organizers arranged for skiing, that I first stepped onto a pair of skis.
The reason this old-timer dares to bring out his battered pot to boast about his aged vinegar on this forum is simply because no one else has burst the bubble of skiing ignorance—truly, I feel anxious for the younger folks.
On my first skiing attempt, I managed to "slide" down the intermediate slope several times without falling, so I threw caution to the wind and headed straight for the advanced slope—a bottomless "pot-edge" bowl with roughly90a 30-degree incline. After sliding down several times without a fall, I began to think I’d regained my youth. The very next year, I bought a pair of Atomic skis. But after just a few runs, in a moment of senior moment-induced recklessness, I challenged the jump ramp against gravity, and with a loud crack, I broke my arm. As for how I, using only my remaining left thumb and index finger, reset my overlapped right forearm bone; or how I drove dozens of miles to the hospital using manual transmission with just those two fingers—well, let’s not get into all that. Suffice it to say, after five years on the sidelines and with a full head of white hair, I couldn’t resist heading back to the ski slopes this year when I saw the conditions were perfect. To my surprise, during my absence, the resort had opened new advanced runs. Ignoring the skeptical looks and subtle hints from the staff, I eagerly made my way to the mountaintop. Unable to figure out how to get off the chairlift, I landed at the top with a face-first tumble. Politely declining the help of several well-meaning young skiers, I bowed my way down the slope with great effort, only to discover that my body had long since transformed into a legend—the desire to "ski" was swiftly dashed into disappointment by repeated falls. Left with no choice, I stood trembling at the top of the high slope, gripping the safety net and sighing at the incline: Go up? Or go down? Eventually, after some internal debate between my brain and cerebellum, I decided that for the sake of "yesterday’s" pride and age-related dignity, I’d better go down. So, with a fierce glare in my eyes, I “floated” down.
Note: I really did “float” down—not “ski,” and certainly not “roll.”
The shift from shivering to swaggering happened in an instant. Believe it or not.
With the snow god seemingly riding shotgun, I miraculously “floated” down the slopes all day, even getting mistaken for an instructor multiple times and even being “asked for advice.” At one point, a ski instructor asked me, “How many years have you been skiing?” I replied, “I don’t count skiing years, I count runs—I’ve done about ten.” The instructor, stunned, said, “Your giant slalom is pretty good; you should try slalom, it’s better exercise.”
That’s when I realized I had somehow leveled up straight from basic sliding to giant slalom.
Later at home, I stumbled upon the “Green Field Outdoor Network,” which led me to discover many skiing videos—and that’s when I finally understood what giant and slalom turns actually are.
The next day, back on the slopes, I only remembered that the key to slalom was keeping your upper body still while moving your lower body. So, I improvised a mental skiing method: imagining yanking my own hair to hang my body mid-air, letting my legs swing freely like a pendulum, flailing left and right as I was tossed all the way from the mountaintop to the cable car station.
Voilà, slalom mastered instantly. Looking back at the ski tracks I left behind, they actually resembled carved turns.
This year, I’ve skied four times already, starting to get a feel for that “floating” sensation, and also gaining some unique insights.
Question: Why was I unable to “float”50when I was “younger” at 60? Now, with aging eyes and a head of white hair, why did I suddenly manage to “float”—and succeed on the first try?
Answer: I must’ve had a touch of dementia; my brain went on leave, making me even less afraid, thus freeing up my extrapyramidal system. That must be it. Otherwise, why would I be so quick to forget the pain, and still be showing off on the ski slopes at an age when I should be holding my grandkids? Also, I probably had some muscle memory from ice-skating as a kid, though that was40decades ago.
Conclusion: When writing, the mind is sharper than the body; when learning to ski, the body is smarter than the mind.
Advice: Skiing is a physical activity. When you go skiing, leave your brain at home.