|Pretty much what I should have done|
my first time down the hill
This was my first time skiing, along with my younger sister. Dad had gone over 10 years ago with my older brother, now moved out for many years. But enough on our history. We pulled up our pants, pulled down our hats, and trooped up the the desk. Getting our ski boots on was an ordeal. My calves are too round, so one of the employees there had to show me how to adjust the boots to actually buckle around my lower leg. So much for looking cool. From what would take place my first time down the green hill would make that sound like laughing matter. (I did laugh, actually, at both of them).
A few years back on a winter retreat, I had taken some cross-country skiing lessons from a friend, so I took a second to recall how to walk and push. First time on a ski lift. A synch. Didn't even put the safety guard down. Up at the top, no problem. I was feeling pretty good. "Wow", I thought, that's a ways down, but we've got until 4:30pm, so I have time to get it straight." I wobbled to the edge and took off. The speed scared me, a bit, but I could take it. Down, down, down, picking up millage. Faster, faster, faster! I'm at the bottom now, going across the snowy field. "So, I slow down right about now, right?" I thought. Uh, nope. When I realized I was in trouble, a million things went through my head. I had no idea how to stop, swerve, or fall. So in a feeble attempt to get help I yelled out "how do you stop this thing!!!" Ha. Too late. As I zoomed up to the chalet, I remember thinking, "OK, I'll be hitting soon, so I better turn my head so I don't smoosh my nose into my brain - put my shoulder in there a little bit because my skis won't stop me completely, and should I hit the brick wall or the glass door?"
|Didn't quite get this good|
One of the moms ran up and did what moms do. "Ahh! Oh my goodness! What happened! I didn't recognize you until you got up and I saw half your face red. Why didn't you stop? Are you OK? Are you sure? Do you need some help? Oh my goodness!"
I guess you could say that was my first fall, though it hardly counts. I was forced to fall. It wasn't my fault. (ha ha). I picked up some tips, went down half the bunny hill, and headed up the ski lift again. Not because I was confident, nor competitive, but because I'm determined. I was fine with not making it in one piece, I just wanted to be able to control where I ended up.
Deep turns, swerve smooth, go slow, slowly. Up and down I went. Not another wipe-out, but not all that graceful. Went to the the class with all the 6-10 year olds and learned how to move correctly, shift weight, and keep my chin up. Herringbone up, slide down. Up and down. I must say I was the most improved skier in 5 hours. That isn't flattery. It's kind of sad considering where I came from.
No, I didn't stay on the bunny hill all day. I took the fast-lift up to the very top - 500 vertical ft. - and went to the bottom fine. I did it at least 5 times, with frequent trips to the bunny hill to practice what I had done to make me fall, and this time get it right. Well, I didn't really get it all right, but I was actually skiing right by 4 o'clock when I called it quits and rested my burning knees.
Today, I am extremely sore, and have a small bruise covered by my eyebrows, but I've discovered that I love to ski! Too bad, because I don't have enough money to keep going. :)
|Daddy and me|
|Plotting my next move|