We must have been 12 years old when our scout troop first went skiing with our new Boy Scout’s scoutmaster Rick.  He seemed cool, had a great manly beard, nice dark full head of hair, a friendly smile, lived in a big house, and wore perfectly fitted clothes to Church. Thinking we were all pretty hot stuff as pre-teens, growing up in Park City, UT, where they give you a week off of school during the winter called “Ski Week” just to perfect your skills on the famous snowy mountains, we went up to the top of one of the toughest runs at Park City Resort and looked down at the moguls before us. We pretended to not be scared, but this run was extra crazy, if I recall it was called Thaynes Canyon. To a kid the moguls were mountains unto themselves, and watching the best of the best try this run and eventually biff it into a yard sale as we laughed from above riding up the lift, always reminded us to take a different route down. As our scoutmaster, Rick, looked at us he said, “Guys, you can do this”, he must have sensed our nervousness.