Something I am still not used to, growing up in the suburban Atlanta, Georgia my entire life:
Colorado weather is C-R-A-Z-Y.
How it is going to be almost 80 one day and then snowing two days later?
Well, Georgia has those crazy shifts in temperature, too, but it rarely involves snow.
Anyhow, this isn’t a weather forecast. It’s to tell you that when I saw snow in the forecast, it reminded me about how when we moved here last year, the ONE AND ONLY THING I wanted to do was go skiing.
I pouted and complained.
Tim doesn’t want anything to do with skiing because of his knees. Back in the day, he had knee surgery and they removed part of his meniscus – aka the thing that helps his leg bones not crunch together. Obviously, skiing would result in lots of crunching, so I totally understand…except…I STILL HAVE MY MENISCUS.
AND I WANT TO GO SKIING.
Nevermind the hard truth that I’ve only been skiing once in my entire life (Georgia girl, remember).
I’m pretty sure it was around the time I was in seventh grade.
(Mom! Seventh grade was a BIG YEAR)
(She pokes fun at me, saying that I am always convinced that anything monumental or memorable that happened in my life happened in the seventh grade)
So, that particular skiing trip, as excited as I was about my adventures in skiing and as many times as I rolled my eyes at the instructor all, “Psh. I can get up if I fall” when he was showing us how to hoist ourselves up with our poles from the side, resulted in a terrifically horrendous crash down one of the beginner bunny slopes.
Funny, I was so pumped riding the ski lift to the “top of the slope” (which was really within walking distance of the bottom of the runs). I really should have put up the warning flag when I almost didn’t make it off the ski lift in one piece.
First timer skier PSA: That thing moves! If you don’t get out of the way?
It doesn’t care.
It’ll bowl you right over.
For a girl who has A: never gone skiing before and B: didn’t receive any instruction on How to Exit a Ski Lift?
Someone really should have included that bit of information in the tutorial, is all I’m saying.
However, being the typical young, indestructible, naïve preteen, I was certain that pro skier math worked something like this:
I managed to dodge and weave my way from the ski lift, therefore? I am an excellent skier.
I would fly down the run and come to a skidding halt, poles still in hand while my arms pumped the the air in victory, head thrown back, smiling.
I pushed myself off the start of the run to begin The Run of My Life where, at the end, everyone within sight would be applauding my incredible skills.
Things started out ok.
And by ok I mean I remained upright.
However, another thing *they* failed to mention during my ski tutorial is that your skis cut through the snow like buttah.
I wasn’t prepared for like buttah and my speed increased exponentially.
To the point I was no longer skiing.
I was an out of control, twisting, contorting, flailing disaster.
These kinds of disasters never end with your arms pumping the air in victory.
When I finally stopped rolling, I sat up and oriented myself and I realized I no longer had anything I started with.
Both were sticking straight up out of the snow about ten feet from each other.
My poles? Strewn about the edges of the run…the opposite edges.
Then, the reality of the situation hit me. Not only did I just make a total idiot of myself, I now had to do the walk of shame back up the slope to retrieve my equipment and then figure out how to ski back down the remainder of the slope without crashing…again.
As I trudged back up the slope to retrieve my equipment, having to dart out of the way of other people who were actually skiing, I racked my rattled brain, trying to remember what the ski instructor taught us.
Finally, I decided on the “V” formation.
It seemed like the safest plan.
After I sat in the snow, struggling with reattaching my skis and then cursing the moment I decided to mock the instructor with his “how to get on your feet by pushing yourself up from the side” (because it’s not as easy as one would think. In fact, it’s damn near impossible), I slowly shuffled my way down the slope, skis probably on the wrong feet, my pride completely shattered.
I sucked at skiing.
And I haven’t been since.
Except, when I learned we’d be moving to The Skiing Capital of the World (not really, but…), that’s the only thing I wanted to do.
I WANTED REDEMPTION.
We went through the entire winter – the winter of Epic Skiing due to all of the snow – without even going to a town that had a ski slope.
Not. A. One.
I know what you’re thinking: “Just go this year! The skiing season is starting! GO GET YOUR REDEMPTION!”
And that sounds like such a lovely, made-for-a-TV-movie kind of plan.
I. AM. PREGNANT.
Pregnancy math = no skiing until the sprout is on the outside which = no skiing until next ski season.
Who will be freshly born JUST IN TIME for ski season?
I’m not entirely sure how much my disappointment in not being able to go skiing last year has increased (THERE ARE NOT WORDS), but Tim – smart man as he is – doesn’t even bring up anything remotely related to skiing because he knows he’ll receive THE WRATH.
And I’m pretty positive THE WRATH would start something like, “YOU REMEMBER HOW LAST YEAR WE NEVER WENT SKIING??!???!….” and just go downhill from there.