Ski Lessons: The Reformation of an Alpine Trainwreck

Over Christmas, I got a chance to go skiing for the first time in about  four years.  Just to give you an idea of my track record, on my first ski trip, I basically fell/shot down at dangerously high speeds each hill. On my third to last ski trip, at Mont Tremblant in Quebec, I had to be driven down the mountain on a snow-mobile. 

(Ok, it didn't look like that.)

My second to last ski trip to Northstar at Lake Tahoe was a real doozy. 

Now, if I had started on the bunny trail, I would have been ok, but I decided to follow my two seasoned snowboarding friends down a black diamond.  As I careened down the hill, praying for dear life/battling nausea, it occured to me that I failed to put the loop of my pole around my wrist.

I then dropped said pole.  Of course, the next logical step was to make myself fall on the otherside of the mountain, take off my skis, and try to walk up.  Needless to say, a few very futile and sweaty minutes later, I walked down the slope, skis in hand, thigh deep in snow.

BUT, I was not to be deterred.  I agreed on another run, this time on a blue square.  I could handle that.  But, at the last second, the guys took a turn down a powder trail and naturally, I followed. Within about 10 feet of the opening, I was on my ass, buried in snow and the guys were long gone.  So, off came the skis again, and this time, I trudged WAIST deep toward what I thought might be the right direction.  This consisted of taking 15 steps and then leaning back to take a rest on top of the snow for five minutes.

(Ha...I wish.)

 Luckily, after 20 minutes of this, I ended up on a slope and a friendly ski patrolman helped me get my skis back on and I made it to the bottom of the hill.

(This is my mad face.)

And, that concluded the skiing portion of my ski trip.  I spent the rest of the day defrosting by the fire pit.

So, I will admit that I've been avoiding the slopes in recent years, but when I went up to visit my grandparents, they said their only wish was to have the whole family go up to a nearby ski resort in western New York called Peak n' Peak.

It was time to face my fears.

This time, I started out right.  On the bunny slopes. Easy breezy.

But of course, having two younger brothers, I was not to get away with staying there all day.

All the green circles were closed, so my only choice was the blue square.  My heart started to pound and I got that throw-uppy feeling again.   I set my sights on the bottom of the hill and blindly willed myself to get down there. All of my limbs and body each seemed to be partying to their own DJ.  I was flailing all over, but managed to keep my balance. 

But, all of a sudden, in the middle of the third or fourth try down the mountain on a particularly steep and icy patch of snow, I felt this compulsion to sing-talk to myself, "Shan, you got thisssss.  you got thissss." 

And then there was this shift.  I felt myself separate from the chaos and speed and vastness of the mountain scene surrounding me.  The different muscles in my body were no longer fighting to free themselves from one another, but were now working in tandem as I gave my full attention to each, single stride.  I became a well-oiled machine.

Instead of looking way down to the bottom of the mountain, I kept my sights only a few yards in front of me, but with a more relaxed gaze that allowed me to keep the rest of the picture in soft-focus.

I didn't need to fixate on the end goal because I simply trusted that I would eventually get there.  I was no longer hurdling down the mountain because it wasn't the end that was pulling me, it was the next small step.

The next thing I knew, I was cruising down the hill and toward the finish line with the greatest of ease.  When I met my brothers at the bottom, I even did a little hockey stop. ( I am not above showing off.)

Even my mom noticed a difference.  "I've never seen you go down the hill with such control before."  I just smiled and nodded.  I saved the lengthy self-analysis for this post......

I ended the day taking on the black diamonds with the deftness of a veteran skiier.  Granted those NY Appalachians are no Rockies, but with my new method of taking it stride by stride, I feel that I can tackle any mountain.

And my grandparents were happy too!

I don't think I have to go into the metaphor on getting through life that's in here...

I want to hear your stories!

What are some of your ah-ha moments about getting through seemingly life threatening situations that ended up being not that bad?

Mahalo :)