The Drag Coefficient of Chocolate

A view of Snowmass on Thanksgiving Day.

All over the Northeastern United States, in seemingly every ski resort in the Northeastern United States, there is a cultural phenomenon so ubiquitous that it is very easy to give it short shrift and to assume that it’s been around since the Mayflower dropped anchor.

Go ahead, ski around the busier parts of your preferred ski resort on any day when there are large groups of children in race programs swarming around like flocks of starlings in matching jackets while their coaches try their best to keep them reasonably safe and on target. Watch carefully. There will be one small, very particular place where the madness stops, like the calm in the eye of a storm. You will most certainly smell the spot before you see it, and then you will understand the root cause of the big pause in all the action. Yes, I’m talking about the Waffle Cabin.

Vermont purists may bristle at the idea of chocolate-covered waffles having overtaken real maple syrup as the covering of choice for these warm, gooey, saccharine-sweet treats, but there is no denying the preference being exercised. Perhaps “laced” with chocolate is a better description than “covered” or “slathered” given the effects the waffles have on their willing victims. Either way, it's a thing, and it's important.

If you happen to be near the start or finish line of the course where these programs compete on race day, NASTAR or otherwise, you’ll notice the stunning amount of chocolate smeared on the faces of the kids. To be clear, their faces are covered in chocolate because, in defiance rational explanation and the laws of physics, the waffles are larger than the faces of the typical race kid. It can look as though the coaching staff took a big mop dipped in molten goodness and ran down the line of children getting all of their faces in one long swipe to make sure they all got their share. There is nothing quite like the site of a bunch of 7-year-olds in matching oversized jackets or oddly baggy speed suits with chocolate all over their faces. It’s hilarious.

The question I have about waffles and their undeniable place among young, aspiring American ski racers is whether it would be possible to identify, for purposes of modern science, the effect they have on the performance and development of the athletes. If I somehow were able to get press credentials to the FIS World Cup races being held at Killington this weekend and somehow were able to ask questions of the several exceptional American athletes who spent at least some of their formative ski years in the New York or New England, I’d pose the following questions:

(1)    What role do you feel was played by the chocolate-covered waffles on race day as a kid in your ascendancy to the world stage?

(2)    Do you still include chocolate-covered waffles in your race-day preparations?

(3)    Do you think that the quality and prevalence of the chocolate in the Alps is a competitive advantage or disadvantage for European ski racers?

(4)    Mikaela, do you have to make accommodations for chocolate-covered waffles in your sponsorship negotiations with Barilla?

(5)    Paula, do you find a significant difference between the waffles in Minnesota and those in Vermont and how do you accommodate for that difference in your preparation?

(6)    Lastly, and most importantly, do your ski service techs secretly smear chocolate on your face or on your skis to make you go faster?

Like so many Vermonters who are current and former ski racers, I am immensely proud of the way in which the people of Vermont host the World Cup. I absolutely adore the way in which the athletes from all over the globe and from here in the US feel the warmth of the place and its people. Especially now that I am away in Colorado when Killington hosts the races, I get pretty misty when I see the enormous crowds cheering loudly for every single athlete and then get even louder for the Americans. It’s a wonderful reminder of why ski racing in Vermont and in the Northeast generally does have a very special place in skiing in a way that draws out the reasons we all love it so much, allowing it to shine through for the world to see.

I do not know if the television coverage of the HERoic Killington Cup presented by Stifel will allow me to scan the faces of the thousands of kids screaming their lungs out in the base area for the telltale presence of chocolate. I do not know if I’ll be able to tell whether the kids with more chocolate on their faces will scream louder for their heroes. I do know, however, that I will watch the Killington races with great pride and real excitement, for my sport, for the athletes, for my home, and for the wonderful people who make it such an extraordinary event. And, on this Thanksgiving I will be truly thankful for all the many wonderful kids whom I've coached and for their families.

Happy Thanksgiving!