A State of Extreme Unwinding

When Washington Pressure Junkies Head for the Hills, A Quiet Getaway Is the Last Thing They Have in Mind

DEEP CREEK LAKE, Md. -- Like many Washingtonians, Dennis Friedman is a pressure junkie. He can't turn it off. He works intensely, he plays intensely.

As chairman of cardiology and research at Shady Grove Adventist Hospital in Rockville, Friedman, 57, is responsible for, as he puts it, "interventional cardiology." He operates with tightrope precision to insert balloons and stents into coronary arteries. Whenever he gets a couple of days off, he packs up the Passat and drives here, three hours west of suburban Washington, to validate his skills in other ways.

The wilds of Western Maryland -- an increasingly popular magnet for adventure sports fanatics -- are the perfect place to observe Washingtonians in aggressive relaxation. People no longer come here just to find a rocking chair on a porch, crack open a book and wait for the leaves to change. Year-round you find folks doing all kinds of high-energy undertakings. On summer days, they slalom and wakeboard on the lake, mountain bike at Wisp Resort and state parks, white-water kayak and raft on the Savage, Cheat and Upper Youghiogheny rivers. In winter, they downhill and cross-country ski, dogsled and kite-ski on the snow and ice just about everywhere.

It's so American -- turning play into work. Especially in the Washington environs where BlackBerries are fashion accessories, Metro cars are mobile offices and self-examination means testing oneself to the max.

Washington, where "laid-back" is the seldom-used seat position on the firm's jet and "hanging loose" is twisting in the political winds. Where kicking back, propping up your feet and taking it easy are lost arts. And where many people vacate only when there's a bomb scare.

Friedman says he takes lots of mini-vacations. Competitive skiing on a hot August day, he says, does his heart good. He belongs to the Deep Creek Lake Water Sports Club, a loose fellowship of 30 serious water-skiers who gather to zigzag on single skis around fixed gates. The arcane enterprise requires patience, practice and total concentration. One false turn of the ski and you can do harm.

The speed, the sureness, the envelope-pushing exactitude is exactly what the doctor likes. "In water-skiing," Friedman says, "you can make no mistakes. It is a precision sport. It requires a lot of stamina and technique."

A high-level skier "cannot waver in your concentration," he adds. "It gets easier as you get better. That's a good feeling."

Steve Green, one of the owners of High Mountain Sports -- a lakeside adventure sports store -- says that lots of people are looking for that good feeling. "I think whether you are at work or at play, when you've done a tough job well, there is a release of adrenaline. There's a rush."

He says, "That's what keeps these people going -- getting that out of their system. Whether it's slalom skiing or waiting for the release on the Upper Yough or running the moguls down the ski slope."

By "these people," Green is also referring to himself. Originally from Rockville, Green, 39, had every intention of being a lawyer. While attending the University of Maryland, he worked as a ski instructor at Wisp Resort -- by winter a ski center with 32 slopes and trails, by summer a mecca for downhill mountain biking and mountain boarding. Somewhere along the way to law school he decided to focus his intensity in other directions. In 1991, he bought into the ownership of High Mountain Sports.

The constant need to prove oneself "can be very difficult, very demanding," says Richard Restak, professor of neurology at George Washington University Medical Center and author of the soon-to-be-published "The Naked Brain: How the Emerging Neurosociety Is Changing How We Live, Work, and Love."