Snowboarding and the Contemplation of Death

I keep waiting to find that one skill/ ability/ sport that I am innately good at.

In my twenty-six years of life, I have been snowboarding twice.  The first time was last December, and the second time was yesterday.  I came away from last year's experience realizing I wasn't instantly good at snowboarding.  Over the course of this past year, I attributed my lack of instant snowboarding ability to several influential factors: 1) not having any previous experience with any downhill snow sports, 2) not having my own cool snowboarding jacket, 3) never having been on a ski lift before, and 4) not having any previous instruction or experience with snowboarding in any form.

How I Spent Last Year

I arrived in Colorado two days ago and was presented with an early Christmas present:  a turquoise snowboarding jacket of my very own.  I now had a cool snowboarding jacket, previous experience with ski lifts and downhill snow sports, and even had some of my very own hands-on experience with snowboarding.

All in all, this year was going to be different.  

Me and my new snowboarding jacket, ready to go

I had a series of immediate successes.  I put on my own snowboarding boots without help.  I sat on the ski lift correctly the very first time.  I didn't wipe out getting off the ski lift at the top of the mountain.  I didn't fall down as soon as I stood up.  Did I have innate talent this year?  It sure seemed like it!

Me, doing well

Unfortunately, that trend did not continue.  While I was able to do pretty well when there were long straight sections with no people, trees, slopes, or bumps, those areas were few and far between.  

I began to start falling, and falling, and then falling some more.  The more I fell, the more tired I became.  The more tired I became, the more I fell.  I soon was spending more time on my butt than up on the snowboard.

Me, not doing well

But, the low moment was yet to come.  The low moment came after a particularly nasty spill in which I ended up laying with my head on the ground facing the top of the mountain (the opposite direction I should have fallen) with my snowboard above me (Luckily, there is no picture of me at this moment.  It was neither graceful nor pretty).  I decided it would take more energy than I had to get back upright and down the stupid mountain.

I heroically told my husband, "Sean, just leave me here.  I'll die in this spot.  It's fine.  Save yourself."  

Much to his credit, he did not leave me, despite my heartfelt insistence that I was done for and that death was preferable to continuing snowboarding.

Through a series of rolling, butt-sliding, hopping, a few glorious moments of snowboarding, more hopping, pushing, walking with the snowboard in my arms, and then (in the last final, undignified moments) riding the ski lift down the mountain, I finally made it to the bottom.    

It was pretty clear to my husband, the guy who let us ride down the ski lift, the nice older man who gave me helpful (yet ultimately useless) advice, and the numerous people who passed me on the slopes that snowboarding was not something I was naturally good at.

But, after a couple of cups of hot chocolate, a sandwich, and a warm car ride home, I was not so sure. I'm pretty sure that there were some factors that brought about my downfall (not being acclimated to the altitude, not having gloves that kept out water, not being able to get off the ski lift without falling)...

In conclusion, I don't think we can rule snowboarding out quite yet.  I pretty sure next year is going to be my year.