Something happened on a ski day in the mid 1970s that in a snap changed the trajectory of my life.

I fell in with a band of radicals; a group that tied bandanas around their knees, skied on what years later would be known as “twin tips” and popped crazy, new moves like Daffies, Helicopters and Wong Bangers.

They were the local freestyle ski team. I was immediately drawn to their vibe, true love of skiing and all-day-on-the-slopes dedication. I knew I’d found my people; my community.

It’s been 50 years since I fell in with that gang and shifted my free days of skiing to training camps, school vacation sessions, traveling for competitions and just plain embracing the sport, the life and the people and I’m here to say this: The ability to fly and flip off a jump may fade, but the friendships from that life? They remain in perfect form.

It’s a big commitment – both financially and logistically – to put your kids in a racing or freestyle program. And (I think it’s OK to say this out loud) the chances of that investment of time and money leading to world dominance or even full scholarships are slim.

But here’s a sure thing: Kids who grow up in regular ski and ride groups gain and learn way more than solid on-snow techniques. The investment I (and in fairness, my parents) made has paid off in so many ways. The person I am today, the way I frame my ski (and overall life) days and more can all be traced to those ski team days.

Dedication, drive, determination: It’s not the sexy stuff of powder days, but showing up is a habit worth developing. Those freestyle team years, we were expected to be there on time (or early. This might be where my “be everywhere 10 minutes early” habit was born) and with a positive attitude. Rainy day? We cut holes in trash bags and made ponchos and practiced all day. Below zero? We bundled up and hit the slopes.

We worked new moves all season long; sometimes crushing them quickly and sometimes never quite getting to perfection; but we never gave up. “Fail forward” wasn’t a buzz phrase back then, but that’s certainly what we did, and we did it with gusto.

Proper competitive spirit: Of course we were a group of hyper-competitive souls. Who else would be side-stepping up to a jump and trying to master aerials over and over through crash and crash day after day? But we were properly competitive.

We were kind to our competition; making them feel welcome when competitions were on our home hill and going out of our way to not just compliment them but get to know them on their turf. Losing could sting, but our coaches taught us how to put it in perspective. Gloating was taboo; celebrating big wins was encouraged. Those skills carry over in life.

Team spirit: Skiing is like so many sports I love, including cycling and golf in that it’s an individual sport that fits well into a team setting. And while we all had our own personal goals and were competing against one another within events, we were solidly supportive teammates.

I remember one big jumping competition at Black Mountain, New Hampshire. One of our teammates crashed pretty hard. There was blood involved and while my memory is blurred, there may have been a cracked bone or two. She got up, brushed herself off and refused to see medical until all her teammates had jumped as well.

That’s a kind of team spirit that goes far in life. We learned how to get along as a group of differing personalities. We learned how to have one another’s backs not just out on the snow but everywhere. We learned how to iron out differences and worth through uncomfortable moments.

We carried it past the slopes – as we should have. Base lodge lunches, after skiing adventures and all-year-round arranged meet-ups dotted our lives. When possible today, they still do.

Friends who share your passions are the best: It’s seldom I meet a person on a ski lift who I don’t connect with. That’s because we share our love of the sport. And while ski team solidified that for me, I think I realized it long before. Sharing a sport you love with one person, a few folks or a big group is amazing. Sports are the unifier; the place where politics, nationality and all that extra weight we carry in life is easily put aside. On the snow with a group who loves being out there as much as you, you find peace in solidarity. And that, my fellow ski lovers, is priceless.

That gang of radicals remain in my heart. We don’t see one another often, but when we do, it’s like no time is lost.

This January, I’ve booked my two eldest grands into a weekly group ski program. They’ll learn edging, carving, riding lifts and the rules of the slopes. But more so, I hope, they’ll find their people.