Updated August 21, 2025
For the last few years, snowboarding has been my whole world. Between lift laps, storm days, and splitboard missions, I’ve probably logged close to 300 days on snow. A good chunk of that was spent skinning into the backcountry, chasing that feeling you only get when you’re standing at the top of an untouched line.
Snowboarding wasn’t just something I did — it was how I defined myself. My escape, my community, my happy place.
But this season felt different.
Pushing Too Hard
Earlier this season I started chasing bigger lines than I probably should have. Steeper chutes, tighter trees, and more “no fall” zones than I care to admit. On paper it looked like progression — but in the moment, I felt tense, almost waiting for something to go wrong. That edge-of-control feeling that used to fuel me just made me anxious this time around. A couple of years ago I would’ve shrugged it off as part of the game, but now that I’m a new dad, the risk feels different. Instead of walking away stoked, I walked away drained.
The Resort Slump
Usually, when backcountry conditions suck, I can fall back on resort days to reset. Not this year. Warm storms, heavy snow, and bare patches made even the fun runs feel like a slog. Grooming was almost nonexistent, and the little snow we had turned to slush or ice by noon. I’d push through anyway, but my knees started barking louder after every day out. What I used to shrug off — bad snow, long lines, beat-up legs — suddenly felt like reasons to stay home.
The Injury Shadow
And then there’s the elephant in the room: injuries. I’ve racked up my fair share over the years — a messed-up knee, a couple of concussions, the usual rider badge of honor. This season, it all caught up with me. Every slam felt heavier. Every twinge in my knee made me wonder if I was being reckless just for the sake of “getting after it.” The truth is, I don’t bounce back like I used to, and that knowledge sits in the back of my head every time I strap in. No wonder I developed an obsession with crash pants and wrist guards!
Losing the Spark
Somewhere between the stressful backcountry days, the sloppy resort laps, and the nagging injuries, I started realizing the stoke wasn’t there. I wasn’t hyped to plan trips. I wasn’t glued to snowboard edits like I used to be. I even caught myself looking at the forecast and secretly hoping for an excuse not to go. That was a wake-up call.
A Different Direction
So here’s the part that feels strange to write: I’m not ready to quit snowboarding, but I know I need to approach it differently. Maybe that means fewer backcountry suffer-fests and more days just cruising with friends. Maybe it means dialing back the “send it at all costs” mindset and focusing on longevity instead of ego. Or maybe it just means giving myself permission to take breaks without feeling guilty.
I don’t want to walk away from snowboarding — I want to find a way to enjoy it again without the constant pressure to push harder or prove something. Makes sense?
The Question I Can’t Shake
How does something that once defined you start feeling like a chore? Is this just a bad year, a mix of conditions, injuries, and burnout? Or is it the end of a chapter I thought would last forever?
Have you ever fallen out of love with a sport you thought you’d never give up?
Part of me wonders if I’ve just outgrown the way I used to ride, not snowboarding itself. Maybe I don’t need the gnarliest line or the deepest pow day to stay stoked anymore. Because even after all the doubts and sore knees, I still catch myself daydreaming about that next turn…
