Test Case: Shredding Powder and Dignity — I Try Snowboarding For The First Time
Trying to become one of those people who likes downhill snow sports....
I have spent the past several years of my life trying to become one of those people who likes downhill snow sports. There have been several barriers to achieving this goal: A day on the slopes involves getting up early, being outside all day in the cold, spending a boatload of money on a lift ticket, and a combination of coordination and confidence I do not appear to possess. I also drive a Toyota Corolla, which is an indicator of my preference for speed.
The last time I went downhill skiing, it was pouring rain, I had food poisoning, and I forgot my waterproof shell. After lunch, the rain turned the mountain into a sheet of ice, and a windstorm basically swept me down the hill. It was scary, but I was unfortunately too old to sob uncontrollably.
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After that experience, I should have resolved to stick to snowshoeing and cross-country skiing, my winter sports of choice. (Unless “hibernating until spring comes” is an option.) But I don’t like the idea of giving up on something just because I find it time-consuming, terrifying, and expensive. Perhaps it was time to learn a new downhill sport: Snowboarding.
A couple of months ago, my friend Kyler said that she was interested in taking a snowboarding class. This caught my attention, since I feel like the learning process is easier when you have a buddy to share in the frustration and mortification of incompetence. When I found out we could hitch a ride to a local ski resort, I made the necessary arrangements to sign us up for a beginner’s class. We took off for Steven’s Pass Resort by 7:30 a.m., also known as “weekend’s middle of the night.” I spent the car ride up trying to keep my mind off the fact that I was going to be a frightened human Popsicle for the most of the day.
Once we got to the resort, I was reminded of a key facet of being an adult beginner: The slopes were swarming with children half my size and fifty times my ability. Indeed, the resort was bustling with people who seemed to know what they were doing and where they were going. I tried to play along but slipped on ice after sea-monkey dancing in an unsuccessful effort to avoid the fall. (This was before we even picked up our rental equipment, which did not bode well.) The good news was that I was swaddled in so much winter gear that I could wander around anonymously like one of those masked creatures in the Star Wars movies.
One thing I immediately preferred about snowboarding over skiing was that there were far fewer pieces of gear to juggle. Just one giant skateboard without wheels. And the boots were way more comfortable, like wearing marshmallows that made you pitch slightly forward at all times.
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We had some time to kill, so we headed over to the “learning area” to humiliate ourselves. This mostly involved exhausting ourselves trying to buckle up our bindings. I had so many pairs of pants on that bending over cut off my air supply, leaving me lightheaded. This lack of oxygen to the brain convinced me that we were ready to try going down a hill. We took a “magic carpet” to the top, neglecting to realize that we didn’t know how to brake or stop until we got to the bottom of the hill. We solved that issue by crumpling into balls of inexperience. Fortunately we were in blizzard-like conditions, with snow both padding our falls and obscuring us from the judging eyes of four-year-old ringers.
When the group lesson began, the wind picked up and we were informed by our instructor that these were the worst conditions he had seen this season, cementing my belief that even Mother Nature herself does not believe I belong on the ski slopes.
The eight students formed a circle of nervous energy while learning about the front edge and back edges of our boards. An overeager pupil, I leaned backward too far and fell down again. I rolled about feebly like an upended turtle for several minutes. By that point, it was pretty clear that snowboarding was akin to tying your feet together, being pushed to the ground, and then being told to do something athletic.
I warded off discouragement by pretending that learning new things was fun. And on the plus side, there were some familiar aspects to snowboarding: The attention to balance and relaxed, bent-knee stance reminded me of skiing and stand-up paddle-boarding. And skating around with one foot in the bindings to get from place to place was an amazing inner-outer thigh workout.
The group aspect of the lesson meant that we had to take turns trying things out with other people watching. This would have made me anxious except that I have reached an age where I care less about what strangers think and more about avoiding running into them on my giant, wheel-free skateboard.
Eventually, we were ushered to a “mini-pipe,” which is basically a shallow groove in the ground into which inexperienced snowboarders are deposited. We practiced something called a “zombie walk” and going down a short incline without landing on our heads. The instructor had me focus on leaning forward, while my body focused on doing exactly the opposite of that despite my greatest efforts.
At the end of the lesson we were provided report cards that marked off what we had learned, giving me a feeling of accomplishment. We took a quick break in the lodge, where I scalded my tongue with hot chocolate. Then I dragged my friend back into the blizzard for some more time in the snow. My post-lesson bravado resulted in a wipe-out on the bunniest part of the bunny hill, and we returned to the mini-pipe for more low-level practice. I finished out the day still not knowing how to turn or stop… or—let’s be honest—remain upright. But I left feeling pretty excited that I remained pretty excited about trying something new after an entire day. Kyler and I both left with plans to schedule another lesson.
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The experience confirmed for me that, if you are going to try something new and intimidating, it is going to go better if you have an equally inexperienced friend participate. It gives you someone to laugh with rather than at you. It also was extremely helpful to take a lesson. At the very least, reserving a class forced us to show up. But it also gives you a sort of “safe space” in which to be terrible. Trying to learn from an experienced friend would probably just result in shame tears.
The one real downer of the day was that a big traffic accident slowed our trip home by about two hours. But this gave us a lot of time to realize that the Seattle radio station The Jet is really just a combination of ten Cyndi Lauper songs played on an endless loop.
I think we sometimes reach a point in our lives when we resign ourselves to being relegated to the sidelines, even though there is still an opportunity to join the fray. We worry about looking stupid or being bad at what we are trying, but with age comes the realization that the only one who probably gives a crap about what you look like is you. Worst-case scenario, pick an activity that involves wearing a ski mask—be it snowboarding or burglary—and go incognito.
Allison Peryea is a shareholder attorney at Leahy Fjelstad Peryea, a boutique law firm in downtown Seattle that primarily serves community association clients. Her practice focuses on covenant enforcement and dispute resolution. She is a longtime humor writer with a background in journalism and cat ownership. You can reach her by email at Allison.Peryea@leahyps.com.