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Mogul mania: at a radical ski school in Aspen, a former Apple exec trains corporate types for the toughest slopes

Chief Executive, The, Dec, 2004 by Everett Potter

We skied a couple of gentle runs and then began to practice what Nevin calls a "precision drift." You "un-weight" your skis by keeping your weight evenly distributed on both feet. Then you go with the flow of gravity, drifting down to a designated spot where you want to initiate your next turn. It was this technique that would take us from routine, groomed slopes to double-black diamonds within hours. In the middle of a sentence, Nevin took a right turn. I followed and suddenly we were starting down Midnight, an intermediate bump run.

The Bumps for Boomers program builds confidence rapidly. I didn't have time to reflect on my achievements: Nevin was too busy keeping me moving. All the while, he encouraged me with the intensity of a college coach: "Make a slow-motion turn on the top of the bump now! Then drift or slide down the backside to the top of the next bump!"

I was getting the idea, in my head at least. My legs seemed to miss every other beat. But I was beginning to feel better speed control as I made painstaking rounded turns. We stopped for lunch, a blur of more theory and hastily downed chili. Then we moved onto the Face of Bell, an expert bump run, where I had taken some spectacular tumbles over the years. But now I was feeling the rhythm that had always eluded me.

Naturally, that's when Nevin insisted we up the ante and head down Shoulder of Bell. This double-black bump run through well-spaced trees is one of the gnarliest, most challenging runs on the entire mountain. Imagine Volkswagen Beetle-sized moguls, at an angle so steep that you feel like you could pitch head over heels. But from mogul to mogul, I found myself floating as if I were skiing in slow motion. I wasn't going to win any race.

But I was pretty balanced and I felt like I was learning to dance down the mountain with real control. I was also having fun, major fun. It was nearly 4 o'clock by the time we descended to Spar Gulch to head down. "Look up," Nevin said, leaning on a pole and grinning at the wall of moguls above us. "We've been out for six hours and you did that."

I had indeed. Without breaking a sweat. And on skis that would be the laughing stock of any locker room. If only adapting to such radical change were this easy in the business world.