Bitten

Apparently I've been bitten by the snowboarding bug. Or at the very least, the excitement bug. Last weekend I went to the snow, as promised, and took a snowboarding lesson for the first time. It was a panic-inducing and terrifying experience -- and that just accounts for the days, hours and minutes leading up to the lesson. The actual lesson was pretty darn groovy, even if it was in a near whiteout.

I had actually seen Therapist on the Monday prior to the trip and told her that I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Strangely, just telling her that started the issues ball rolling. Funny how that happens... I either go to therapy not wanting to talk about something but then I do and feel a million times better, OR I go in thinking I'm all good and come out of the session whipped into a froth.

On Wednesday of last week, I took a long lunch to go to my local ski shop to get fitted for rentals. They assured me that they had rental boots that would fit both my wide-ass feet and my wide-ass calves, and yet there the sales rep stood before me: flummoxed as all hell. "Huh. These usually fit our most unfittable clients," he said. I left in tears and called my bestie for a pep talk.

"Just do the lesson and if you hate it, then you go back to the lodge and relax. It doesn't mean you're a failure if you don't like skiing anymore. In fact, it's a victory if you just go and try it."

Good point.

And yet I found myself in quite the dither for the rest of the day, culminating in a long, unavoidable talk with Honey Bunny about the possibility of just forgetting about this whole skiing thing. It become clear through the meltdown and tears that, at least at this point, I have too much invested in trying skiing "again". Skiing was so much a part of my identity growing up, and I have always felt like it would be easy to pick back up again... that I should pick it back up again, because if I don't then what does that say about me? That I'm too fat to do it anymore? That I no longer care for something that I felt a passion for when I was a kid? And, worst of all... what if I'm no longer good at it? I decided at that moment that I was going to switch to snowboarding. Doing so meant that if it was a failure, there was little to nothing invested in it. I had an excuse for being slow at learning or entirely bad at it: I've never done it before.

The next day I contacted the resort and changed my private lesson to snowboarding, but not before I turned the receptionist into a 2nd therapist. I told her I was fat and not in the best of shape, and asked if I was crazy for trying snowboarding. She laughed and said, among many other things, "Just come prepared for it to be really hard because it's really hard for everyone in the beginning. And remember, it's always good to try new things, so this is a good thing you're doing."

I also went back to the ski shop and got fitted for the boots and board. To my surprise the boots were not abundantly more comfortable than ski boots, but they were definitely more forgiving. Hey, my toes did not fall asleep within 30 seconds! That is a snow sports miracle for wide-footed people everywhere.

This is a good time to mention that the weatherpeople were forcasting 80% chance of snow starting at, oh, 1pm on Friday. My lesson was scheduled for 2pm. This didn't make me unhappy or panicked (yet). It, in fact, relieved me by providing an extra excuse for possible failure at snowboarding.

Also a good time to mention that pretty much everyone I told about trying snowboarding would stop in their tracks, look me up and down, and say something like, ".....really? Cuz my sister's friend - she's 5'10", 105 lbs and a gym fanatic - tried snowboarding when she was 18 and had to be on heavy painkillers from the bruising and muscle aches for the following five days. Then she went back a week later and tried it again and broke both arms." Having spent six long weeks in external traction for a shattered wrist from trying to get back into my other childhood passion, rollerskating, I was a tad worried. Wrist guards, check.

We arrived at the resort at about noon on Friday. I started crying in the parking lot but quickly sucked it up. My nephew, who has been snowboarding since 2002, decided he was going to introduce me to boarding before my lesson. It was probably nerves more than anything but the 20-minute act of both him and I trying desperately to get me buckled into the bindings sent me back into orbit. My toes had long since fallen asleep, my feet in general were starting to ache, the snow was falling faster and faster, the wind picking up. I choked out, "I... need to go to the bathroom. See you after the lesson." More crying ensued. I went up to the cafeteria where I looked out the giant windows at the slopes. Watched my nephew meet up with Honey Bunny, watched as he told HB that I fled, HB briefly looking up at the cafeteria windows, then looking down in defeat, followed by a slow shrug, and then off they went to the lift together.

I felt so miserable in that moment. I felt so abandoned and pathetic. But at least I was sitting down, my feet slowly coming back to life. I watched thin people come in from skiing and boarding, smiles on their wind-chapped faces, sitting down exhausted from their day of riding. Why can't it ever be that easy for me?, I wondered. I'm just going to go down to the ticket office and cancel this fucking lesson.

But, the more I sat there, the more I regained my composure. I had to decide to let go of every single expectation I had. I had to decide not to hate everyone in the room for being seemingly better at this snow shit than me. Eventually, as I stared out of the window at the worsening weather conditions, I thought, Omigod, I'm on fucking Hoth. And I cracked up! I also formulated the best Facebook posting ever (IMHO) in my head, making myself laugh even more. I couldn't post it until I had signal but hey, my inside joke propelled me to a better mood and a can-do attitude.

At 1:50, I marched right out to the lesson meeting point and stood there, completely unafraid of What Happens Next. Awesome Rich, as I now call him, was my instructor. Like me, he is in his late 30's and married. Unlike me, he's competed in Super Pipe competitions with the likes of Shaun White. I love how he said, "I did all that shit and lived the life but now I'm here, and I love what I do. I would so much rather be teaching you how to snowboard than competing for a medal." There was absolutely no irony or sarcasm in his voice, trust me. I believe him because he's a great teacher who taught me to snowboard.

I snowboarded, people! At first with him holding my hand, helping me maintain low speed and control, but eventually on my own. With mascara running down my face (see also: The Makeup Queen, 100% Whored Up). With a snow outfit I thought was cute but really was kinda lame, oh well! Dude, I even wore goggles.

By the end of the lesson, I had only fallen twice and Awesome Rich told me he thought I did really well for a first-timer. He also said, "I'm pretty sure all the lifts are going to be iced over within a half hour, so I would recommend going inside at this point." Phew. Sipping a Vodka Tonic as I sat in the resort saloon waiting for my nephew and Honey Bunny to come in was a nice close to the day. It was also nice to stretch my calves and feet. Imagine trying to push a brick through solid ground using only your toes and some leverage provided by bended knees, and that's snowboarding on your toe edge. The heel edge is not as hard but is trickier and requires a finer sense of balance. Snowboarding is intensely physically demanding but is much, much easier technically than everyone said.

I wussed out a bit and didn't go back on Saturday like Rich had recommended. I loved it but I needed to completely come down from the high anxiety of the week leading up, and visit with family a bit (the actual reason we went to the snow, FYI). I did plan on going back on Sunday but HB came home on Saturday night looking as fried as I've ever seen him and said he couldn't possibly ski another day. Oh well, here's looking to next season.

Meanwhile I'd like to condition a bit and am thinking about purchasing a balance board (which is good for a lot of things, I hear). When I think back on what it was like to snowboard on my own, especially when I realized that Awesome Rich had let go of my hand and I was doing it on my own accord... it was amazing. I can see how people get hooked. Apparently I'm hooked.

Psst! I also found some wide boot and better clothing options that I'll be testing in the meantime. I'm having fun. Life is indeed good when you try new things.