Shribman: Prepare your mind for winter’s delight

A majestic bluebird day at Sugarloaf, the gem of Maine’s Carrabassett Valley (Sugarloaf)

Last spring, on my final ski day of the season, I took an inventory of my ailments and how they relate to skiing: Torn meniscus, requiring the use of a knee brace. Tennis elbow, making it hard to carry my skis in my left hand. Sore right shoulder, rendering the process of lowering the chairlift bar a burden. A pending heart MRI, and who knows what that would reveal.

So now, six or so months later and the new season beckoning, here is an assessment of my attitude for the coming snows of winter:

Wearing that knee brace is no big deal. To hell with worrying about the tennis elbow, and besides I haven’t played a game of tennis in decades. Nothing wrong with the other (left) shoulder, so lowering the chairlift bar should be no challenge. And the heart MRI? It was kind of like the headline in the Buffalo newspaper when quarterback Jack Kemp, later a congressman and 1996 Republican vice-presidential nominee, was sent to the hospital for postgame tests: “Scan of Kemp Brain Shows Nothing.”

So I’m ready to go, raring to go, resolute about going skiing again. They say that spring is the season of renewal; last March, writing in this space, I meditated on that notion. Now I am wondering if New England Ski Journal has a corrections section. I ask that because now I believe — deep in my heart I believe this — that for skiers, fall is the season of renewal.

Yes, fall is the season of renewal, and I’m not talking only about season passes, though, given the springtime discounts, it might be a little fiscally irresponsible to start thinking about that now. You should have taken care of that in April.

We all know what skiers are supposed to do in the fall. Start those stretches. Some weight work will do. Tune your skis. Get your equipment in order. Make sure your car is set up to transport skis and boots. Book your flights, if you’re heading out west. Book your lodging, especially if you’re thinking of holiday ski trips. Waste some time looking at “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” to check which weekends will produce a harvest of fresh snow, and whether it’s worth it to reserve rooms for the Christmas-New Year’s period.

Sure, do all those things, but maybe skip the farmer’s almanac. And remember: the preparation that you do that matters does not involve Expedia or your favorite ski shop. It is all in your head.

Now that sounds like the diagnosis you get when you take your roadster into the shop and the squeak that is driving you nuts doesn’t show up for the mechanic — or when you go to your family doctor complaining about a stomachache that suddenly disappears the moment you step into the office suite. But really: It’s all in your head.

The preparation you need is to prepare your mind.

First: For disappointment in the first few runs, when the turns you perfected in late March have disappeared by the time you start the new season. For the prices in the cafeteria, which seem steeper than the vertical drop. For the pitiful shape of the snow, all manufactured of course and covering just a fraction of the mountain.

Then: For the relief you feel when you put on your boots and they still fit. For the satisfaction you experience when you step out of the lodge, look toward the lift line and realize that there is no lift line. For the sense of belonging you feel when you look around and see other early season skiers sharing your passion. For the exhilaration that fills your spirit when you stand atop the trail and look across the valley to the peaks on the range across the way, for it is a beautiful view and all seems right with the world, even if the world is not exactly covered with snow yet.

And this: Scan magazines like this for the early season deals. Linger on the reports of the new developments at your favorite ski mountains — the new lifts, the new terrain, the new après-ski events. And read some ski history.

The great ski historian E. John B. Allen of Plymouth State University has a new volume out, “Traveling the Old Ski Tracks of New Hampshire,” and it’s a beauty. I’m partial to “The History of Cranmore Mountain,” by veteran Granite State ski writer Tom Eastman, whose book explains how North Conway became for a time (and maybe again, with all the new development surrounding the old hill) ground zero in American skiing. My ski bookshelf groans with great offerings, but one of my favorites is “Over the Headwall: The Ski History of Tuckerman Ravine,” by Jeffrey R. Leich, who for many years directed the New England Ski Museum with creativity and erudition. All three of these writers have become friends of mine — friends for all seasons.

I’m not sure the jazz singer Billie Holiday had our winter sport in mind when she sang, “What do I care how much it may storm? / I’ve got my love to keep me warm.” But that’s the right idea, and the right mindset — even though we do in fact care how much it may storm. But one thing is sure, as we wait for the first flakes, the first dusting, the first accumulation, the first monster blizzard. We have the love of our sport to keep us warm, even as temperatures plunge.

David M. Shribman, executive editor emeritus of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, did not win his Pulitzer Prize for ski writing. He has skied in 14 states, three Canadian provinces and five countries — and, frequently, after classes at Dartmouth College.