A Skiers Guide to Opera Singing 7. Year Two. Catastrophes.

This is, perhaps, my most personal post.  I generally don't get into my feelings, yada yada yada, but skiing and singing have collided.

As I write this post, my leg is elevated and there is ice on my knee.  By the time you read this, I'll likely know my fate.

Last Saturday I was completing the last run of the day.  It was a beautiful warm day of February skiing.  It felt more like late April with weather in the lower 40s and sun streaming down.  As I turned from the sunny slope to the shade of a copse of trees, something went wrong.  I don't know if I hit a patch of ice or if my knee gave out first, but I found myself on the ground. There was no discernible noise of my knee popping but after I got up, I could feel that something wasn't right.

I skied back to the lodge on one leg (didn't know I could do that!).  I've now seen my PT and scheduled an appointment with an orthopedic doctor.  The PT thinks it is a torn ACL.  I'm not in a lot of pain, but my knee feels unstable and is swollen.  It's my first injury in a very long time.

I share all this because, knock on wood, I've been relatively injury free as a singer.  You may not know this but singers can have a myriad of problems with their voices.  From vocal cord injuries to injuries that disrupt breathing (bruised ribs from other activities) to jaw issues (TMJ).

This is the first injury that has really had an impact on my movement in a major way. Last night I did a recital on crutches and limping.  On Saturday, I'll be doing a high-energy kid's opera with a crutch as well.

I am worried about what will happen next.  This unexpected intersection of skiing and singing is definitely not a welcome addition.  It was bound to happen at some point and I am trying to handle it with as much grace and tact as possible.  I'm grateful that I still have motion and did not break any bones.

A Skiers Guide to Opera Singing 6. Year Two. Growth and Challenge.

A couple of weeks ago, the family went back to our little ski resort.  Now under new management, the lodge and slopes are getting updated yet the area still has the family vibe.

As I started my second season, I wondered if I would still find a relationship between my singing and the sport.  Turns out that after some time away, my skills had remained from the previous year.

Considering the effort that I put into last year's season to learn the basics of skiing, I didn't lose that much over the summer.  When I saw my oldest daughter, The Spud, hit the slopes, I saw that she actually improved and had much more control.

As I watched her move down the same few slopes again and again, I saw a transformation from last year.  Last year she screamed down the hill.  The guys at the lift called her the "Pink Bullet" because she was so damned fast.  She went basically straight down the slopes each time.  This year she is still fast but she is able to carve nice even turns down the slope.  She can control her speed and make choices about whether or not to speed up or slow down.  She can also start making small jumps in the terrain park.  So what do I do?  Do I push her onward to more and more challenging slopes at other mountains?

In the end, I recalled my days practicing "Caro mio ben."  I've sung that song about 10,000 times and I've never mastered it.  Sure, I've moved on to other works but that song is one that will stay with me forever.  I love that song and no amount of repetition will change that fact.  Maybe this is a situation where my singing will influence my skiing.  I don't want The Spud to be challenged so much that she burns out.  I should just let her feel ready to try something bigger and better.

At the same time, skiing made me think about singing and the nature of young singers.   This may sound obvious but kids grow.  On a daily basis they are making connections and gaining coordination.  So what happens to young people who, like The Spud and her skiing, show aptitude in singing?  Should we push them to more and more challenging repertoire?  Or do we let them master the basics and give them the basic tools and allow them to use the tools to grow?  It is these kinds of questions that I think on and I realize that I am glad that I'm not a voice teacher in charge of the development of younger singers.  I don't have any good answers!

A Skier's Guide to Opera Singing 5. My Left Foot.

I will keep this one brief.

I was thinking back to my first day of ski season.  It had been years since I had put on skis.  After a couple of glides around the bunny hill, I thought that I had rediscovered some semblance of skiing form.  Keeping in mind that I only skied about 4 times in my life before this.

That first run down, I started off feeling confident.  As I started my first turn, my left foot entirely failed me.  I started to snowplow and I had no strength to coordinate my legs.  For the remainder of the day, I wondered what on earth could be the matter that I could not move my left foot and leg with the same skill and precision of my right leg.

In a way, I was taken back to being a young opera singer.  There were so many things wrong that I had to manage and figure out.  I'm a notoriously slow learner about some things and it took awhile for me to get some equilibrium about performing and learn the skills so that they were reflexive.

So my advice as a skier to an opera singer? Keep track of all the left feet you have.  Deal with them.  It will make the subsequent trips down much more fun.  And then don't forget to repeat again and again... that will help to fix it.

A Skiers Guide to Opera Singing 4. Insanity.

If you are on social media, you may see this meme around:



First off, it is very likely that Einstein did not say it.  Let's put that aside for now.

As a new skiier, I would say that repetition has been my greatest friend.  I started out barely creeping down the green slopes and with more and more runs under my belt, I found that making the leap to more challenging slopes was not nearly as scary.

And besides, the first time I looked down from the top of the mountain I was petrified.  I thought I could see for far too many miles than was humanely safe and the bottom was completely out of sight.  That first run was a blur and it was only with repeating the runs down that I could take in more of the scenery.

Does this sound at all like singing to you?  There is a reason that I spent a month in NYC for rehearsals of my last show.  We were performing a new work that had never been staged and, in addition to giving the music the attention it deserved, my colleagues and I had to spend time figuring out how our characters would interact and what our stories were when we were not on stage.  By the end of rehearsals we were running the show twice per night.

Repetition leads to strength.  Repetition leads to the ability to recover from mistakes.  Repetition leads to confidence.  Repetition gives you the opportunity to look with a wider field of vision and appreciate different nuances.

And soon I began to realize that with repetition, the adventure was in the journey and not the destination.

A Skiers Guide to Opera Singing 3. Share the Lift Nicely.

Skiers are stupid.  Take for example the risks of riding the Chair Lift:

• You get on a chair that floats through the air 50 feet above the ground
• You share that chair with a friend or a total stranger
• If you don't drop the bar, you could fall out
• If you drop the bar and your chair mate isn't noticing it, you could hit their head and make them fall out
• You have to disembark without killing the person sitting next to you
• You have to load and unload smoothly so that everyone on the chair lift can get up the mountain as efficiently as possible

Opera Singers are stupid.  Take for example the risks of being on stage in an opera:

• You stand on a stage in front of hundreds (or thousands) of people who are looking to be entertained
• You share that stage with a friend or total stranger
• If you don't act safely, you could fall off the set 
• If you act safely and professionally and your colleague is not aware, you could still end up injuring them or negatively affecting the performance
• You have to enter and exit the stage without ruining your colleagues work
• You have to enter and exit the stage to smoothly maintain the efficiency of telling the story

Do you see some similarities?  As I was sitting on the chair lift, I tried to think of the rules that we could apply that would mitigate the challenges for both a skier and a singer:

• Practice- the first time you get on the chair lift or rehearse a scene, it's likely going to be a mess.  Keep working at both and soon you will know how to share the chair lift or stage nicely with your friend.
• Be considerate to strangers.  Sometimes you board a chairlift or share the stage with a new person.  When you do, watch and listen to them and try to communicate as much as possible to make sure that you are both on the same page.  Find compromise and you can find success, even on your first trip on the stage or up the chair lift.
• Lower the bar according to plan.  Once you are sure that you are ready to go out on stage or are safely seated on the lift, lower the bar in coordination with your partner.  It makes for a smoother experience and no hurt feelings.
• Mind your boarding and disembarking.  Both Chairlifts and Stages require that you carefully walk off stage.  For chairlifts, you are throwing yourself down a 10 foot slide.  You have to clear the way for the people behind you.  On stage, you are walking from a brightly lit proscenium to a dark backstage.  There may be people behind you who need to get off the stage quickly.  Don't dilly dally.  You aren't the star of the show (even if you are the star of the show), you are just a piece of the puzzle and other people have to do their jobs.

A Skiers guide to Opera Singing 2. Give up the Poles

It all began when we arrived at the mountain and Kev-lar said, "Why don't you leave your poles?  Helmet Jim has quit using his poles and so have a lot of the rest of the gang."

Keep in mind, the few times that I've skied, I used poles and almost every skier who I watched go by had poles except for the little kids who were snowplowing down the mountain.  My heart went right to my throat.  It seemed impossible to imagine going down such a steep hill without something to aid with balance.

Of course, I remember my poles getting tangled in my skis as I got off the chairlift as a kid.  And then I fell and they had to stop everything.  I also remember falling and getting all tangled up with my poles knocking into my skis and having to trudge around the slope collecting all my gear before I could continue on.

When Kitty went with it, I joined in as well and left the poles leaning against the lodge.

After a few runs down the little bunny area, I started to get the feel of skiing back into my body.  Kev-lar stayed with the Spud and patiently watched her come down the hill and sometimes carried her up the little hill so she would not have to side-step up.

Kitty and I left them behind and crossed a steep intermediate.  From then on we were going down a curvy, relaxed hill.  Yes, I snowplowed like a kid.  But I did not fall.  When I came close, I could just drop my hand, push off and reset myself.

It got me to thinking, what are the poles that I carry in my singing career?  What are the artificial tools that I use to support me?   What are the steps in my learning and studying and performing that I think are completely necessary, but, if I gave them up, would make me a better singer?

What are the poles that I need to leave back in the lodge when I walk out on stage and sing?

A Skiers Guide to Opera Singing 1. Go down a Mountain

Based on my inspiration of mentor, I'd like to introduce you to a new, brief mini-series on this blog: A Skiers Guide to Opera Singing.

I did some work at Opera Colorado as a young artist.  At the time, I was amused that I had a clause that I would not go skiing or do any "extreme sports" during the length of my contract.  I believe I was the only person in the cast who actually followed that through that point in the contract. That is not a judgement, I was just paranoid about messing up the gig.  Hey... I was young!

When we decided to get season passes to a lovely little mountain this year for our family here are some of the general worries I had:

• I have not skied in years.  I'm too old to try.
• I don't have any gear.
• I have a big singing engagement coming up in NYC, don't break your neck.

There were a million more reasons.  I pushed through them with the help of Kitty and my relentless brother-in-law, Kev-lar. (Congratulations! You scored a code name.)

Just after Christmas, the three of us went up to the mountain and brought along The Spud, who was anxious to try out her new skis.  Kev-lar gave me and The Spud some pointers.  Kitty was ready to get out there and hit the slopes.  While Kev-lar patiently trained The Spud on how to turn and how to stop, Kitty and I left the training area and went down one of the beginner slopes.

A lot has changed since I last went skiing.  I had never skied on real snow.   From the first trip down the mountain, I immediately learned that this was an activity that I could relate to and enjoy.   You might say that skiing is my new golf.  One of the first things I'm going to do when I get back from my gig in NYC is to get back to our little mountain and do some more runs. I'm learning a lot about myself and I want to learn more.  I want to go down the mountain again and again.