ski.

S K I .






It's been three months now. Well almost. Since J and I rode the lifts for the first time at Stevens Pass that is. I was into the idea of buying experiences vs. stuff and so for his thirteenth birthday got us a pair of three-day lessons and a couple nights at a quaint little hotel off the beaten path in the mountains. It was a proper birthday holiday. It was a proper holiday period (so much so that we're making it our new winter tradition - where our summer tradition of course is California and the Sierras).

I have been wanting to try skiing for a while. Years now it seems. I've been told I should be skiing. It made sense what with all the mountain climbing. Skis and mountains just … go together. It's natural. Stubborn though I always had some excuse why it just wouldn't or couldn't work that year. Or the next. Then I read an article on the blog semi-rad a while back maybe sometime this past December about being a lifelong beginner. It was a tough pill to swallow at thirty-six for sure (and still is a few months later) the whole not-being-good-at-something-and-falling-a-lot thing. But Brendan wrote it best in that post -

I am going to try this, I am going to suck at it for an indefinite amount of time, and other people are going to see me fail, repeatedly.

Yeah. Word.

I mean it's one thing to botch a musical piece rambling on my piano in the living room alone some night. Or have my pedal fall off halfway riding home so having to one-pedal it on a mostly-empty bike trail. It's another thing entirely yardsaling and flailing on skis in front of hundreds of people on a packed ski weekend at the resort as small children blow by you on the blue run. Or - umm - the green run. Even more awesome.

So yeah. That's been tough.

But no bother. I wanted to ski. But I didn't just want to ski. I wanted to ski damn good. I want to backcountry ski just about anything actually. Well not anything. Not crazy stuff. But I want to be confident going up something and not having to worry about how am I going to get down this? To just kill it. So I invested a small fortune on ski gear (I think that was part of the deterrent all these years … the cost of all the gear - not to mention a season pass at a resort). And I went up. Then I kept going up. I fell a lot too. But by the end of a little over a month of skiing the resorts I ended the groomer season getting down a bunch of black diamond lift runs. I was sort of proud. It wasn't pretty on some of them. There was a fall or two involved. Right below the lift. But I did it.

And then the resorts closed.

But the mountains did not. So I headed up to Rainier. A few times now. All the way to Muir forty-five hundred feet up and down (three hours up … thirty minutes down - that might be one reason why I like skiing so much!). The snow has sucked. It's been grabby. Sort of like cement at times. But I guess I figure if I learn to ski this crap come next season in about six months with fresh powder it'll be something this side of heaven. And I'll just float on top of it with maybe at least a touch of grace rather than flail.

And it's so much fun. As in so. Much. Fun.






I have not had this much fun in … I don't remember when. The challenge of it all. The fact that I do suck and that it's difficult and will take years to even come close to being competent. But I have embraced it with a vigor I don't think I have felt in forever. I look forward to each trip. The skinning up. The stripping them off and being slightly nervous at the impending run down. Dropping in on something steep but just saying to myself all the little bits I learned during those three days of lessons. 'Embrace the speed' as you point your skis downhill. 'Squat to turn … lift to straighten' as I put pressure on the downhill ski and let up on the uphill one. 'You should never have to take off your skis and walk down a slope.' Etc. etc. Those few lessons were priceless. And I can look at people who I can just tell are amazing and appreciate and love their grace and ease and form.

* * *

So a little birthday present to myself … on a friend's advice I took off the Friday before and headed up to Camp Muir on Rainier. Halfway up I stopped and thought to try taking off the skins and seeing how the snow was. Do a few turns. Immediately once I started flying down I was grinning from ear to ear. It was probably less steep than a green run. Whatever. It was in a little valley that I had to myself. The sun was out. And I was skiing in May. In shirt sleeves. And loving. Every. Minute.






Best birthday present to myself ever.

My goal then: to ski every month this year. I don't care what kind of crap condition the snow is in. Or if I have to boot pack it up a couple thousand feet and only skin another thousand to ski down cement I'm doing it.

I'm doing it.