To get a full grasp on this story, I must start with a lesson I teach to my students every year about slope. I start by asking my students where they've heard slope before and oftentimes they will respond, "mountains" or "skiing" and that's when I start to tell my stories about how much I hate snow sports. I talk about how I've gone skiing or snowboarding and ended the day broken, crying, cold, and miserable. I tell about how I fell into a gully and had to be rescued, how I fell flat on my face and literally knocked the snot out of me. I tell how it is one of my least favorite things to do.
Also, to understand this story, you must know that my boyfriend loves skiing. It is his favorite sport. He lived in states with excellent skiing: California, Oregon, Utah. He dreamed of being able to take me skiing with him to share in one of his favorite activities.
You can imagine how we both felt about the situation. Yet I realized that in all relationships, one must learn to compromise. I had months to prepare myself, to tell myself that I could do it, to convince myself that the fun clothes and promised hot chocolate would be worth it, and that if it made my boyfriend happy, it would make me happy. Months to prepare for the day when enough snow had fallen and winter sports had come.
Yesterday, the day finally came. I was prepped in my cute clothes and brought a great picnic lunch along and suddenly, I found myself in line for my first ski lift in probably 14 years. The bunny slopes went great. My boy was a great teacher, giving me just enough tips and instructions
to be helpful and improve my control of the skis without being too
helpful or annoying. I fell twice the first run, but after four trips up, I was ready to move on - beginner runs for me!
We rode to the top of the beginner run and I was suddenly filled with fear. I'm not afraid of much. I kill spiders and talk to homeless people and speak in front of hundreds at a time and it's no problem for me. I've swum with sharks, jumped of balconies on homemade ziplines, and taken 40 jr. highers to Catalina on a boat. But I was overwhelmed by the fear of falling off the course, falling in the path of other equally bad skiers, getting run down by people, speeding out of control and rolling head over heels until I break something. I knew I needed to calm myself down and gather my courage, so I suggested we look through the lodge at the top of the slope.
That didn't take as much time as I wanted, but off we went. It actually wasn't too bad. I made it safely down and started to see that I wasn't so horrible. Maybe I could do it again - so I did. I was gaining confidence and feeling like I could get past my fears and actually even get better at this whole skiing thing.
We decided to try a different beginner run. This run started in the same place as a blue square run (an intermediate run that also had a freestyle section filled with jumps and ramps and rails) but soon after, the runs diverged and we could follow the easy run down. We started down slowly and soon found the signs for the green beginner run - only to find that it was closed! We flagged down a ski patrolman on his snow mobile and asked what we could do. "Take the intermediate run down, I guess." I could feel the tears starting to form and my chest tighten. I eyed the back of his snow mobile - it could easily seat two people. I stared at him with a look that pleaded for him to offer me a ride to the top. I considered just getting on the back without an invitation when he said, "good luck!" and drove off.
"Ok, babe, you can do it," I heard as I started to tremble. Wonder woman wouldn't cry, but I wasn't feeling much like her today. I just looked ahead at the ramp with snowboarders flying off and then what seemed to be a sheer cliff melting into the skyline. With a few more instructions and some practicing of my stopping techniques, we started down the mountain.
I ran into one snowboarder, causing us both to fall, but he was so awesome and helped me back up. I fell several other times (a surefire way to stop when I felt like I was going to die), but mostly just slowly went back and forth one piece at a time. The snow was actually more powdery on this less used run and because everyone else was so much better, I didn't really have to be afraid of someone running into me. All I had to do was stand still and let them work around me.
What was most amazing was my boyfriend. He was so patient and so encouraging. He would ski ahead a bit when the drop would get too steep to see, and let me know which path would be the easiest. He calmed me down and helped me take it one little piece at a time. He helped me navigate away from all of the scary trick parts of the run and told me when the coast was clear so I could start my way down. And even though I was terrified, I actually felt really good knowing how awesome he was to me.
I about cried with relief when I saw the final steep slope that would lead me to the lodge at the bottom. It only took me an hour to do a run that most people probably finish in thirty minutes, but I had done it and survived.
I spent the next hour sipping hot chocolate in the lodge by the fire, waiting for my boy as he fit in a few runs without me. I was definitely done for the day, but I was also proud of myself. I faced a fear and finished without peeing my pants or fainting or even being too weepy. I was proud of my boyfriend too. He was an unbelievable helper and literally talked me off a cliff - or at least down one.
So I may not be wonder woman nor Sydney Bristo, but I feel like I am one step closer. So if I ever find myself chasing a bad guy down a mountain slope on skis, I feel like I won't be helpless - I just better hope and pray that the bad guy goes really slowly.
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