BFF’s
BFF’s Eric, Kris and Thom in Vail 3.8.25
“The language of friendship is not words, but meanings” - Henry David Thoereau
Our friendships nourish and sustain us.
They provide a reprieve from the formal roles we play in our familial and professional lives.
We let our guards down around our oldest and closest friends. They bring out our more lighthearted, playful sides.
The quality of our relationships is the single strongest predictor of our happiness and health—more than career success, wealth, or even genetics.
Yet, in the busyness of life, they are often the first thing to get neglected.
We don’t mean to lose touch, but life pulls us in different directions—careers, kids, responsibilities.
Friendships don’t demand our time the way work and family do, so they quietly slip down the priority list. But they are no less essential.
We may need to prioritize other areas of our lives at times, but it’s vital to keep watering the roots of our friendships.
One of the most meaningful ways I’ve learned to do this is through an annual tradition with my closest friends.
The annual trip
I spent this weekend skiing in Vail with three of my oldest and dearest friends. I’ve known Eric, Thom and Ryan since middle school.
This is our 7th or so annual ski trip, made possible by our kids getting older and our “kick ass” wives holding down our collective forts.
These guys are part of a core group of friends that have known me longer than anyone else in my life outside my nuclear family.
As we get older, this time together becomes more and more meaningful.
It’s not easy to arrange our hectic work and parent schedules. It’s a substantial withdrawal to be away from our families.
It takes considerable time and expense to get together in awesome destinations.
But the payoff is exponential.
Being together activates the neural circuitry of a simpler time in our lives. When having fun and making each other laugh was all there was to do.
And we laugh until we cry retelling old stories. Our bodies have aged but our spirits are as youthful as they were 35 years ago.
We also open up and are comforted by sharing the challenges we are all facing in navigating marriage, raising kids and the inevitable dramas of our larger families.
In short, we reconnect to each other in a meaningful way that I have a hard time explaining with words.
But I cherish that feeling. And I’m reminded that it’s always available.
Investing Time
This annual trip is a deep drink from the reservoir of these friendships. Being around these guys for a few days seems to help me remember more about who I am.
As guys, it’s easy to keep cracking jokes and telling stories without getting into anything of too much substance.
But because we create this space and keep our connection strong, we’re able to open up to each other. We’ve learned the value of being vulnerable and sharing
I’ve recently discovered how with a little intention, I can recreate this feeling more often.
Another childhood friend and I recently put a monthly Friday afternoon meeting on the calendar.
We might have gone 15 years or so without seeing or talking to each other more than two or three times but our bond from our formative years is strong.
For each of the last two months we managed to carve out close to an hour to talk about our shared passion for Buddhism, psychology and to simply reconnect and learn more about each other's lives.
I was busy both days that we were scheduled to talk. It would have been so easy to reschedule. In fact, he forgot we had booked the second time.
But we made the time. And after both conversations, I felt a fulfillment that is missing most days. It added a dimension of connection that speaks to the power of our friendships.
We talk about all the ways we “spend” our time. Along with our attention, it is our most valuable currency.
And many days it’s hard to say that I’ve invested wisely. Just running the autopilot, middle-aged, daily script.
But the days I’ve talked to Mike have been special. At the end of the day I smile and feel like I did something important.
It’s strengthened my determination to keep making more time.
It’s a reminder of how those small deposits of time and attention into the relationships that feed our souls pay off with outsized returns.
I have now started populating my calendar with recurring meetings with many important people in my life. A practice I intend to make a habit for the rest of my days.
It’s just too damn easy to say we’ll keep in touch and never do with our friends and our family. It’s also too easy to say “well they never call me so…”
Nonsense. We all crave that connection.
And If it’s important to me, then it’s up to me.
I take responsibility for watering these flowers.
The Mountain of Life
We had perfect ski conditions this weekend. The sun shone brightly as the sharp blue sky contrasted the majestic, white-snow covered Rockies Friday afternoon.
The three of us stopped at the top of the run. We took a deep breath of pure mountain air as we took in the spectacular panoramic view from our perch on top of the world.
With a nod and a smile Eric dropped in, then Thom. I felt a moment of gratitude, then fell in unison behind them as we carved a synchronous “s” pattern down the slope.
As we fell into rhythm, I felt a powerful connection to these guys, like we were part of the same fabric of energy. One that not only included us, but all of the natural beauty surrounding us.
It was a beautiful moment made even more so knowing full well how fleeting they can be. Two dear friends from ski trips past are no longer here to share it with.
As we come down the home stretch to age 50, I’ll take nothing for granted.
Inevitably our synchronous line starts to separate. We each find our own unique line down the slope. But we know that we’ll all be there waiting for each other at the bottom.
It’s a neat metaphor for how though we’ve all carved out different trails in our lives, we always find our way back to each other to reconnect.
Life will keep pulling us in different directions, but the friendships we nurture will always be waiting for us at the bottom of the run.
-Coach Kris
