Despite the trauma detailed in my last post, I really did have a great trip to the mountain. Everything that happened off the slopes was tons of fun. So this year we planned another ski trip.
This time I figured I would try skiing. Everyone said that it was much faster to learn...they were so right. This doesn't mean that there weren't moments of panic and scenes of complete chaos, despite the fact that I didn't have a snowboard strapped to my feet.
Because we are new to winter sports we rent our equipment. We were helped by the friendly staff at the rental place and I told her what shoe size I wore and out came my ski boots to try on.
I put them on and noticed that they felt uncomfortable. She told me to stand up in them and squat forward in a skiing position. My feet slid forward and they felt ok. So on they went and we headed outside with all of our equipment.
We had decided that instead of signing me up for a lesson, my husband who is a competent skier would just give me some tips...that mostly you just needed repetition to learn how to ski. He told me how to clip the skis into the bindings and told me the basics of what I should try to do.
At this point I could feel the circulation in my feet was diminishing. A slight tingling in my toes was a little bit alarming but everyone looked so ridiculous walking in ski boots I thought everyone must be feeling this way. I mentioned that my feet were starting to hurt and everyone told me that ski boots were uncomfortable...but that it shouldn't actually hurt. I took a moment to assess whether what I was feeling was discomfort or pain. I thought it pretty much felt like pain...but I really wanted to get to the skiing part of things so I thought I would just suck it up and continue.
The first few minutes of skiing were uneventful. I practiced the snow plow. I was feeling pretty steady. Then for no apparent reason I fell down. No big deal. It was a way nicer fall than the snowboard falls had been. People were giving me helpful hints as to how I could get back up but it wasn't really working. My heart sank as I thought about another day spent like a turtle on my back...unable to right myself without a lot of assistance from someone else. Out of frustration I just used my poles to un-clip my feet and got up. I could live with this. At least I could do this independently.
I made my way to the ski lift and got in line. Everyone said that getting on and off the ski lift was so much easier on skis than on a snowboard. Thank god for that because I wasn't sure I could take anymore humiliation in that department. I felt pretty good as I saw my husband and daughter board their chair and head up the mountain. Getting on the chair was a snap...I was feeling awesome...I was going to be an amazing skier...I could just feel it.
I enjoyed the assent up the hill, now trusting that the whole contraption wasn't going to collapse. I visualized my dismount...thinking 'how hard could this be...you stand up and glide down off the landing platform.' The fact that I had ski poles comforted me in that I could take my time and use them to propel myself forward if I stalled on the platform.
It was my turn...I stood up. I could not believe it when I found myself in a heap at the bottom of the off-ramp. What the hell?? Luckily there were several empty chairs behind me so no one was going to run over me. Once again, I used my poles to undo my bindings and rolled out of the way.
My husband and daughter waited patiently for me as I then had to put my skis back on...I could see a look of disgust pass briefly over their faces. They were trying to be supportive though and soon the three of us were on our way down the easiest green run.
It actually went very well. I never fell...I felt confident that I wasn't going to bowl anyone else over. Basically I could maintain some semblance of control as we skied down.
At one point I saw my family disappear ahead of me. They seemed to have dropped down a worm hole. As I got closer to where they vanished I realized that they had just skied down a very steep part of the run. I stopped and had a small panic attack as I stared down this slope. There was no way in god's green earth I would make it down alive. Not to mention that it was heavily populated at the bottom. I pictured myself in a gigantic Shaggy and Scooby-doo snowball with skis and poles sticking out of it barrelling down the mountain.
Although I enjoy making people laugh, I decided this wasn't how I wanted to do that. I unclipped and loped down the hill as my legs felt like they were being sawed off at the shins. These boots were just ridiculous.
After seeing how I was walking in them, my husband advised me that I looked like I was in pain. YES! I was, indeed, in pain.
I left my family to the slopes and headed back into the rental place. As soon as I got the right boots on my whole day turned around. THIS is why people can ski all day long...they can maintain circulation to their feet! Aha! It all made way more sense.
I met up with the family and my lesson continued. As we neared the bunny hill I put my skis back on. After a few pointers my coach/husband decided it was time to head down.
There were people everywhere. All of a sudden the hill looked very steep. I had a small tantrum there in front of the four year olds who seemed to be managing all of this much better than I was. My husband pointed out that this was, after all, a bunny hill. If I couldn't handle this then my hopes of making the 2014 Winter Olympics seemed very dim indeed.
Very patiently, he waited while I stopped whining and stomping my feet and actually focused on the task at hand. In the largest snow plow ever achieved, I slowly skidded down the hill until I reached a bit of a flat part. My daughter had zoomed ahead so I was left alone for a bit. I watched my family as they went down the hill and that was the motivation I needed...I wanted to catch up to them.
Once I was left on my own I was able to figure out this sport without the humiliation and self-consciousness that learning in front of other people always provides me. I actually was doing pretty good. I felt in control...that the small children in my midst would perhaps survive the day without the Indiana Jones experience of running for your life as a huge (snow covered) ball barrels towards you threatening to crush your bones to dust.
After a successful run down the bunny hill we ran into some friends at the bottom. As I stood still...chatting to my friend...I fell down. Just like that! One minute I was up...the next I wasn't up anymore. Another friend who was in the chair lift over head saw us and got quite a kick out of the fact that I didn't get back up. I continued the conversation lying spread eagle in the snow. I explained that I figured I would only fall down again if I stood up, so I felt it was somehow less embarrassing to just lie there...like I'd planned it that way all along. Just to cover my tracks I think I will try to lie down more often while people are talking to me. It was actually quite comfy down there. Unfortunately for my daughter, while I was still lying like I was about to make a snow-angel whilst carrying on a conversation, we ran into one of her friends from school. I'm sure she wasn't too impressed that we had more witnesses...I'm sure her friend wasn't either.
Eventually I did get up and we all got back in line for the chair lift.
Again, I enjoyed my ride up the hill. The thought of getting off the lift hadn't even entered my head. The first time was just a fluke...everyone says how easy it is to dismount in skis. As I stood up I really believed 100% that I was just going to ski off into the distance like everyone else.
My daughter was standing with her friend at the top by the time it was my turn to get off. They were going to be so impressed by me...oh ya...this would be the sexiest dismount ever.
As I fell, my eyes locked onto my daughter's friend's...the look on his face was one I had never seen before. It was like he had caught me being spoon fed as I sat in a great big high chair with a great big bib on. I am an adult...adults don't fall down on the top of the easiest chair on the mountain. Adults pick up the little kids that fall...at the very least, adults know how to stand up with skis on. Well...not this adult. Now I was mad. What was wrong with me! It is a 2 foot little ramp. It's not like I'm trying to ski down K2 or something.
At this point, it was decided that everyone except me was going to go down the harder baby run...I was happy to be going in the opposite direction. I couldn't stand to see that look on any more faces...that look of pity and disgust.
I am happy to report that I nailed my run...I didn't fall...I figured out how to do nice easy turns...I didn't really need to snow plow ever...I just skied. It was great. So great, in fact, that I skied right to the lift and headed up to do it all again.
I did some deep breathing...I decided that I had simply psyched myself out about getting off. I told myself "Self...it is nothing but a tiny little ramp. It isn't better than you...you are better than IT! This ramp has nothing on you. This ramp is what is standing between you and greatness...you shall overcome!"
Thank god it was a different person running the chair at the top...that made me feel better too. He assumed that I was just another skier...not the complete lunatic who can't get off the green chair.
I fell again. This really wasn't funny anymore. I was PISSED! He asked if I was ok. "YES!" I snapped at him as I jabbed at my stupid bindings with my stupid poles like a stupid idiot. I was so violently having a go at them that I'm sure I looked a little like Norman Bates in Psycho, plunging his knife into an innocent victim. At this point I felt like I was frustrated enough to give ol' Norman a run for his money.
I stood up and said, "why the hell can't I get off this chair??!!" Instead of leaving me to my misery, the lift operator had lots of good suggestions. I told him I would see him in 10 minutes and I fled down the hill, determined that I would figure this out before I turned in for the day.
Up I went again. I went over all of the tips he'd given me. Could I possibly fall again?
I did.
I hate skiing.
I don't really...but this is now becoming a bit of an Achilles heel. This ski weekend was 3 weeks ago and I still find myself going over and over this in my head. I even contemplated waiting at the top of the hill until the lifts close so I could just climb on the platform and try until I got it. But I didn't do that...I just went back to the condo...defeated
So all in all...I think I like skiing. But if I can't get off the chair what am I to do?
No comments:
Post a Comment