My Best Day

I have been blessed with a lifetime's worth of perfect memories riding these mountains, but there is only one that stands out clear and deep like a track you've had to hike to earn. My memory is of the day Debbie Clifton “Danced”.

I once side lined as a Snowboard Instructor on Whistler Mountain. I had many students through the seasons, but Debs is unforgettable. It's not that her feet were born knowing how to turn, this young lady's secret was 100% great attitude. She wanted to snowboard.

What followed were days of riding side by side and on-mountain bonding. As we grew closer, we started to share more personal conversations and I discovered something about my new friend that shattered me. Debbie was living with Cystic Fibrosis.

“C.F.” is a genetic disease that is most famous for attacking the lungs. Eventually the disease wins and the lungs stop working. Debs explained that to gain the lung capacity to ride each day she had an exhausting two hour routine of physio therapy and treatments to preform.

All so that she could do something I often take for granted.

Inspired, I decided to teach Debs something I had never had the courage to share with another student: The Philosophy of “The Dance”.

“The Dance” is what results when the rhythm of your turns and the energy of the mountain merge into one fluid motion. You find that you are no longer conscious of your body. From your toes to your fingertips your fear melts away.

It's awesome.

I took a few chairlift sessions and attempted to explain The Dance to my young grasshopper. Debs grew quiet as I spoke. I was certain that I had scared her with my new age mumblings and quickly changed the subject.

The next afternoon as we made our way down a run, I darted ahead to watch Debs so that I could give her a few pointers on technique. And then, around the corner above me she appeared, turns linked, in total control of her board, her movements fluid, her face relaxed into a huge grin.

My Debs was Dancing.

Pride oozed from me. I was witnessing a new sureness, a Debs-only style of The Dance. We laughed. I cried. I bragged about her all week to anyone that would listen. I brag about her still.

Debs and I kept in touch for a time, but I'm sorry to say that eventually we lost contact. That's a risk you take living in a resort town. The people you love often slip away. I was left with a few photos, a handful of brilliant memories and a renewed appreciation for both the paradise I live in and the sport I love. Her gift to me was My Best Day.

Wherever Debs is now, I hope she is winning her fight. I think of her every time the cold air fills my lungs and my feet strike up The Dance.