This weekend I went skiing for the first time. A friend of mine (let’s call him D) invited me along, and I was super excited to try it; however, in theory it wasn't nearly as tough as it was in reality! We found a place about an hour from Minneapolis, and they offered a two-hour beginner ski lesson at the start of the day. While I went to my lesson, my very experienced friend hit up some of the black diamond slopes that he knew I wouldn't be seeing. I found myself in a group of 6-7, with an instructor who was super patient and kind. It was very 101 – how to put on your skis, how to get them off, what to do if you fall, etc. He tried to teach us how to turn, but I had a really difficult time grasping that concept, and didn't really master it very well on the bunny hill. I finished my lesson at noon and then we met up to figure out plans. I had every intention of grabbing drinks/lunch at the main lodge that we were next to, but as D was skiing, he discovered a little bar on the other side of the resort that you could only get to via skiing. I completely freaked out because A)I hadn't been on the lift yet, and B)I hadn't been off the bunny hill. I asked him about 10 times in a row if I could do it, and he assured me that I could. He anticipated my freak out, so he’d picked up a map so he could show me the exact hills we would ski down and the location of the bar. I was still apprehensive, but I agreed to give it a try. We got to the lift, and he told the lift operator it was my first time. The guy stopped it to show me how it would come around, and how to position myself when it picked me up. Easy peasy. As it turns out, riding the lift up the hills was my favorite part of the day. It was so beautiful! So halfway up I had another freakout because ohmyGOSH how do I get OFF the lift? Am I about to be catapulted down the mountain?! I CANNOT BE CATAPULTED DOWN THE MOUNTAIN. Once I was reassured that there would be adequate flat ground I was okay. I got off of the lift, and froze. I didn't think I could do it, and I was panicking. It looked too steep, and too long, and I was afraid. I didn't cry, but for a few brief minutes I wanted to. D spent the next ten minutes reassuring me that I could make it to the bottom, and that I simply had to turn my skis down, and I'd be done before I knew it. He reassured me that he would ski behind me the whole time, and that he wouldn't leave me by myself. I finally went, and I fell. Hard. Skis and poles went flying, and D gathered them up and brought them to me. He helped me get up, and I tried again. I fell twice more going down the hill, but I made it. We got some drinks and rested for awhile and then it was time to go back up. The second hill we went down had parts that were much less steep, and I got to practice. D helped me learn to turn my skis to slow down, and I started to get the hang of it. I fell so many more times (seriously, SO much), but I got more confident each time. Then we hit the hill that made my day. I took a deep breath, and went for it. I wasn't panicked, and I was finally able to process what was happening - "you're too fast, slow down a bit by turning your skis in a little; go around this person; you're standing up so squat down a little more; keep your arms in" - and before I knew it, I was at the bottom. I started to freak out a little when I realized I didn't know where to go, because I wasn't able to slow down as much as I needed when I got near the end. Then I heard D, who had skied behind me the entire time, talking me through where to turn, so that the ground would naturally stop me - he saw me looking around, and knew what I was thinking. Y'all. When I came to a stop I could have exploded into some rainbows. I was so excited that I finally made it down and I'm pretty sure I smiled the most ridiculous, cheesy smile the rest of the day. We did several more runs successfully, and I loved it. We wrapped up the end of the day in the lodge drinking beer and watching people ski down a timed course. It was a super fun day!
All those falls left a mark though. When I fell, I favored my left side apparently, and this happened. Both sides, and my bum, swelled up.
I wasn't in pain through the day, but by the end of the day, I was super tender. I spent the next 48 hours icing it down, and it's still a bit sore still, though the swelling is all gone. It produced, by far, the coolest bruise I've ever had, and maybe the largest. Here's the evolution over the course of the last week...pretty gangster, no?
After I had some alone time to process the day, I couldn't help but think of how representative it was of my life this past six months. I've stood on the top of that proverbial hill so many times, and completely frozen. What I've found though, is that when I trust myself, and my ability to do whatever it is I'm trying to do, I make it. Sure, I might fall, and end up with some nasty bruises along the way, but that's part of it. And the more I go down the hills, the more confident I become in my ability to go down more.
If you're standing at the top of your hill, let me offer a little gentle encouragement, and a virtual pat on the bum...
You've got this. You're stronger than you think you are. You'll make it to the bottom, and if you fall, it's okay - everyone does. It's less scary than you think. You've made it so far already, and the end is in sight. Just take the first step. Even if it's a tiny step, take it. Before you know it, you'll be finished, and the satisfaction is priceless.
No comments:
Post a Comment