I am 30 years old and it is not everyday that I do something that I have never done before. Recently, I went snow skiing for the first time in my life. I have never even been near a ski slope before, much less had to skis strapped to my feet- well, never until now.
So, we went to Salen in the north of Sweden and there were 8 of us all together and all but one other (which I will not mention again as she was on black slopes by day two) had been skiing before. Some of them were even avid skiers. I, ahem, was not. As we pulled into the resort I was instantly overwhelmed. There were people everywhere, zipping by us on skis like it was the easiest thing they had ever done.
Of course, we could not check into our room until 3, so it was straight to the slopes. Ack! I proceed to rent my skis (size sasquatch) and get my lift ticket (do I really have to be ‘lifed?’ &”%”%) head to the bathroom to put on my mismatched, hodge podge ski wear and then meet the others. Of course, they are already strapped up and ready to hit the slopes.
After fumbling with the latches on my ski boots for what seemed like hours (but was really 4 minutes) I begin to wonder if they are supposed to cut off ALL of the circulation in your feet. The answer, thank goodness, is ‘no.’ So, now, back inside to get new boots (in size sasquatch and a half.) Well, you get the picture, it took some time to get everything right and maybe that should have been my first clue.
After I am all strapped, tucked, pulled, latched and covered, it is time to head to the big, giant, looming…baby slope. We go up to the ‘lift,’ that happens to be just a round disk hanging from a stretchy pole, and I watch 4 or 5 tiny kids grab hold of the disk, pull it between their legs, and slowly start to move up the hill. Easy enough, right? (Please, keep in mind, this is the FIRST moment I am ON skis in my 30 years on this planet.) I am thinking ‘ these little kids can do this, how hard can it be?’ I move out into the path of the pole, straighten my skis, grab the pole on the first try, pull it, put it between my legs and sit down on it. Ker-plop! Umm…no one told me YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO SIT DOWN ON THEM, you are just supposed to let them pull you. 4 and half minutes on the skis and I am on my butt in the line of the lifts.
Fast forward.
I learn the basics- mainly ‘how to get up when you fall,’ how to turn, oh, and the most important thing to learn, how to STOP!. After 4 or 5 times down the baby ‘mountain’, the whole group meets up and decides to go up the big lift to the top where you can choose a color of slope to go down that suits you. Fair enough. I think I can handle that. We go up the lift and arrive at the top of what feels like an actual mountain this time. I cannot see the bottom, so it is a mountain to me. My heart starts beating slightly faster, but I tell it to chill and proceed to start my way down, back and forth, back and forth, slowly. I still can’t see the bottom. Back and forth, back and forth, getting faster now…and then a little faster…and then faster yet…trying to stop…trying harder to stop…hitting ice….faster….more ice…slight panic…cannot find snow to stop…only ice…faster….aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand KABOOM- into a snow drift piled up on the side, going what felt to be mock 10, limbs go everywhere, skis go flying off, face into the snow and legs twist…hard. Pop. Yep. Maybe I had been on the skis for one hour, maybe, and I had broken myself. Haha!
Needless to say, I sat the next day out, mad at myself for pushing it too soon and in a considerable amount of pain, but determined to go out again on day three. Of course I did go skiing again day 3 and day 4 and of course I probably should not have. However, I could not have left that resort and not skied again. I don’t know if I would ever have tried skiing again if that was the case. I forced myself to go again and I am really glad that I did. We went to another resort that had really cool ‘baby’ slopes all the way down from the top of the mountain and then, and only then, was I able to master (can I even call it that?) turning and not falling on my butt every five minutes.
Over all, I liked skiing so much. It was so freeing (once I got it) and damn it feels good to learn something completely new. It is weird, but I have been jonesing to go back right away. I can see how one could get addicted to it. However, I will not be going back until next year because now I have a sweet, torn MCL muscle (labeled below in the bottom right corner of the picture) on my inner left knee from pushing myself too soon. Yep. Hot.
Thank goodness it seems to be the one muscle in the knee that when torn, does not require surgery. It should be healed in another couple weeks, but for now it is a daily reminder of falling down a mountain and getting back up again. Cheesy? Yep. I can live with that.
