Back in high school, I did PE as an optional subject, and one of our big assessments was a ski week in 6th form. It was about the only assessment I failed in two years.
We were at Temple Basin – in mid October. There was no snow on the learners slopes, and actually almost no snow on the entire field. After a day of doing nothing in the lodge there, we got some snow, and spent the rest of the week around the far end of the skifield in Downhill Basin.
The lessons were rudimentary. So rudimentary I don’t remember anything from them apart from using our poles to turn our skis from side on to the slope to facing down the slope. I remember fear, the knowledge that the runout at the bottom of the slope we were learning on was a fairly substantial bluff. Mainly I remember giving up after the one short lesson we were granted and spending most of the week hiding in the shed at the bottom of the hill, going out into the snow only when I had to.
By the end of the week the only thing I had achieved was more fear of skiing and a sense of utter failure. I was presented with an award from the group of “person most likely to never set foot on skis again”, and the tag really stuck.
It was easy to avoid skiing while at uni and immediately after. I very rarely was offered the opportunity, and could plead poverty when I was. Not many of my friends skied anyway.
Then I met Mark. Who had been skiing and loving it for a couple of years (on the plus side, at least it was only a couple, and not forever and a day), and wanted me to go with him to the mountain when he went away for weekends.
Our first year dating (2008), Mark paid for me to have a snowboarding lesson for my birthday. I was still adamant that I wasn’t going to ski, but I figured I could give snowboarding a go, so I didn’t have to sit at home alone for multiple weekends each winter.
Snowboarding was hard. After my two hour lesson and about another 20 minutes playing around, I needed a break, so went to the café. After that, I found it was just too hard to get going again. That night at the backpackers I was absolutely exhausted. I could hardly move, and was immensely glad I had a bottom bunk. I spent my Sunday miserable at the café at Turoa while Mark skied.
In 2009, I spent only one weekend up the mountain, and the weather was awful, so not much was open and no-one was really skiing anyway. In 2010, neither of us made it to the mountain, between starting new jobs and planning a wedding, we didn’t have the time or money to go.
This year, I had no more excuses, especially when the only weekend we had planned for the season was an absolute stunner. Staying in the lodge had bored me to tears (literally) on Saturday, and so I caved in to pressure on Sunday and went down to Happy Valley for a ski lesson.
I admit, I had a much better time than I anticipated, considering I had been nearly shitting myself with anxiety while waiting for the class to start. Our instructor was patient, well spoken and funny. We were corrected without being laughed at, cheered when we did things right and generally encouraged to keep trying even when we found things tough.
By the end of class, my big achievement was that I could stop myself, at least occasionally. It’s a skill that I barely managed to hold on to over my half hour lunch break with Mark. After that I decided I was sore, tired and to be honest a bit emotional at the fact of having faced my fear, and I didn’t feel the need to prove myself any more for the day. So we took my skis back to the hire shop and went up to Knoll Ridge on my sightseeing pass together.
I found that I was definitely less sore after skiing than I had been after snowboarding. I’m sure that the work I have done with various personal trainers over the last three years to increase my core strength, balance and fatigue point have all contributed to this. My sore bits were the fronts of my shins from the boots and my calf muscles.
Will I ski again? Probably. I suspect you will find me in a beginners lesson again next winter, and the winter after that until I get to the point of being able to turn and can move up a step. Its going to take a long time to be confident enough to get out of the learners area, but I’m ok with that.
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