18 January 2011

a story about skiing

Remember how I accidentally bought myself some skis? Well, now I've used them. As a general principle, I've avoided sliding down steep, icy mountains in below-freezing temperatures. Just seems like good common sense. Through my school years I gladly skpped out on ski club and, as it turns out, likely stunted my early dating life as the ski club bus was apparently a hot bed of adolescent debauchery. Over the past few years I've happily stayed in bed when Chris woke up early on weekends to hit the slopes.
A few weekends ago I went skiing for the first time since my beginner lesson last winter. After very patiently offering me advice and feedback on the bunny slope, Chris kindly suggested that skiing tends to be a bit more natural when you actually try to go downhill. Up until this point, I had just been trying my hardest to shuffle along horizontally across the hill, making very little downward progress. It appears downward progress is the name of the game in skiing. Just ask any of the five-year-old prodigies whizzing past me. Later that morning we decided it was time for me to graduate to a real ski trail. The trail was named after one of the founding fathers, and you know how much I love a good American Revolution reference, so I was feeling pretty optimistic.

Chris would ski ahead a little bit and then I'd inch my way down towards him, a few turns at a time. It was a slow, painstaking descent. The one time when I actually got some speed and may have even been engaged in an activity recognizable as skiing, I started cursing and yelling as I barreled toward my sherpa. I thought I was going to be the rare 26-year-old active female to suffer a heart attack. (I'm not much of a risk-taker or adrenaline junkie, if you haven't picked that up from the proportion of cooking and knitting photos that are on here in relation to extreme sports photos.) After I slowed my heart rate, I realized I was actually having fun. Who would have guessed? I'll even give it another try. I can't guarantee that I won't sneak into the lodge after a few runs for some hot chocolate and a good read, but it's nice to balance that out with a bit of fresh air and pure terror, right?

(Vintage ski posters, top one from here & bottom one from here.)

1 comment:

  1. OMG...I still can't stop laughing. I love this story! Kudos!


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