As I slide into the starting gates, I shoot a sideways glance at my competitor.
I can’t allow her to see the pre-race anxiety and dread building behind my goggles as the race announcer winds us up, I know. I must be one with the slalom.
The announcer says the course is almost ready for us now, and there’s no turning back. I point my skis downhill and take a deep breath.
Having just spent two weeks watching Whistler’s Olympic athletes shine in Beijing, I recognize all the signs of the starting gate jitters.
Only now it’s my turn. Now I‘m exactly like them.
I am speed personified; a man built of grace and effortless flow, with precise and immaculate poise and an unimpeachable centre of gravity.
I am, for all intents and purposes, an Olympian, I tell myself.
Only this isn’t the Olympics—it’s the 2022 Telus Winter Classic, annual fundraiser for the Whistler Blackcomb Foundation (WBF)—and no amount of internal pep talk will change the undeniable fact that I am a god-awful skier.
But it can’t hurt to try.
The announcer sets us off, and I force myself to move. Gingerly I make my way down the hill, plotting a mediocre pace between slalom gates as the hype man at the bottom does his best to make me sound legit in his play-by-play.
I am eternally grateful for his feigned excitement and generosity in calling my race. If you were close enough to hear but not see, you may have been fooled into thinking this was an exciting display to watch. It was not.
As I plow across the finish line I collapse in a triumphant spray of snow and ice, dislodging a single ski in the process to the delight of my Pique teammates watching on.
If there was ever any lingering hope of denying it, it’s gone—Jack Crawford I am not.
But I survived, and with minimal injury or embarrassment, which is sometimes all a man can ask for.
At the bottom of the course is a small celebration, boosted by the legendary Ace Mackay-Smith on the turntables and a Garibaldi Volunteer Fire Department (GFVD) cheering crew.
I spend a few minutes chatting with some of the firefighters, who give me an update on their search for a new rapid response wildland fire truck—a purchase made possible by the WBF in last year’s round of funding.
With COVID throwing a wrench in the fundraising gears, they are extra grateful for the WBF’s grant money. They’re not alone.
Since 1992, the foundation has doled out more than $17 million to community groups in the Sea to Sky—and seeing the real impact the foundation has means the world to executive director Mei Madden.
“I always say I have the best job in Whistler,” she says. “I think more than the actual number, it’s the benefit of seeing in person what we have been able to accomplish and also knowing that we can be of help to all of the amazing non-profits and charities who do such great work in the corridor.”
Though this year’s Winter Classic—the 29th annual—didn’t feature the full slate of evening activities that occurred pre-pandemic, it was just nice to see so many come together again for the on-mountain events, Madden says.
“The vibe was fantastic and the atmosphere was so fun. It was also so heartwarming to have some of our regular volunteers back again,” she says. “We feel so fortunate to have the support of so many amazing people in our local communities and beyond.”
While donations were still being tallied at Pique’s press time, this year’s event raised more than $300,000 for Sea to Sky charities, and potential recipients have until April 1 to get an application in, Madden says.
On my way back up the mountain after my race, a ski school instructor asks if I can take one of his kids up the chair with me. His name is also Braden, and we bond over our shared name on the ride up. While Braden says he knows a lot of Bradens, I am the first adult Braden he’s ever met. I tell him that’s because I am in fact the first Braden, from which all other Bradens originated. Braden accepts this without question and we continue our ride.
Braden tells me about how one time he and his dad got stuck in the snow, and had to paddle themselves out as if in a canoe. Then he tells me about how his old house had a fire in it, and he hopes his family installs a jungle gym in the new home.
That would be fun, I say, and I hope so too.
Not wanting to let Braden carry the conversation, I tell him about my big race today, leaving out some unimportant specifics, and he looks at me in a new light. Awe and admiration fill his six-year-old eyes, and suddenly I know exactly what it feels like to be Jack Crawford.
I may have had the third-slowest time out of every competitor, and tumbled across the finish line like a newborn baby giraffe.
But Braden didn’t know that.
To Braden, I am the fastest skier alive—a Braden worth looking up to.
I like to think I have the Telus Winter Classic to thank for that.
Even if you missed out on the fun, it’s not too late to donate. Telus is matching all donations up to $25,000, and donations over $25 are entered to win a Whistler Blackcomb season pass for 2022-23. Head to whistlerblackcombfoundation.com for more info.
