Today I needed to find some once beloved and well used items that I knew better than rid myself of. I dusted off my old ski boots, squeezed into my snow pants from high school (I am so proud of that feat), discovered that the lining of my goggles had literally disintegrated into a fine black dust (I was horrified to count the years I have stored these items), donned an ancient pair of waterproof gloves, and eventually set out to hit the slopes for the first time in way, way too long…
My initial whim was aimed at learning to snowboard with Riley. But my absence on the mountain found me reminiscing about the days when I skied without fear, my focus intent on a perfect parallel, legs burning as I ground the edges of my skis deep into the snow, the wind at my face, the thrill of the ride, the simple euphoria that shrouded even a far from perfect run and found me always yearning for one more... one better, one harder, one perfect run.
Could I really find all that again after all these years? I had to try… I risked skipping way too many days in high school to now so easily turn my back on this teenage obsession and venture into the unknown territory of snow boarders.
Well, I did toy with all those pent up emotions, but… I also had no idea how I was going to teach Hope to snowboard if the only way I could make it down the mountain was sliding on my derriere.
My countless hours on the Mountain (yes, when I should have been in high school) paid off. Despite my defunct fixation with skiing in recent years the knack was easily resurrected and some seriously fond memories were revived the mere moment I arrived on the mountain once again today.
Riley went snowboarding… confirming my suspicion that I might just fail miserably on a snowboard. Riley has no fear of speed, he is conditioned to blows and he is determined to learn to board – he of course, had very little trouble getting down the mountain and he progressively got better – making it down three different runs without falling. The lifts were a whole other ball game… apparently it’s much more difficult to exit the lift on a snowboard.
He also successfully avoided my camera.
I secured Hope’s skis and sent her out on the bunny hill to test her level of fear. We were on the lift in a matter of minutes, Hope proclaiming her desire to find the boys and ski along side them.
On the lift I prepared Hope with instructions for getting off… scoot to the edge of the seat, remove your death grip from the pole, ski tips up and simply stand up when I tell you to…
Hope decided she didn’t want to get of the lift anymore but there was one little problem – we were already on the lift. I reassured her that it’s ok to fall when we get off and they will stop the lift for us if I wave my hand…
She cut me off and told me point blank that she was just too scared to jump that far down!
Hmmm… I guess I forgot to tell her about the part where we don’t get off until we reach the landing. Poor girl! She thought we were jumping. But her fear of jumping made the actual descent back onto the ground much more appealing and she scooted off and skied away like a little pro all day long.
Hope spent the first half of the day skiing down the hill between my legs. Then spent two runs going down by herself before she opted for poles and put many adults to shame shortly before we called it a day.
We already have plans to go again…
I’ve missed this mountain extravaganza and I've let a once dear obsession become something of only a vague memory recently – but I am back and I am thankful this mountain is too far away for Riley to spend his school days on a board :)
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