I took my first ski lesson on Thursday. An old Vermont ski-hippie named Phred took me out on the hill for the $50 beginner group instruction. Since the group consisted only of me, it turned into an intense two-hour private lesson, at the end of which my legs were so wobbly that Austin had to clip me out of my skis and take my boots off for me. I walked like a bow-legged cowboy the rest of the day. When I could walk.
Phred, I told my instructor, the stakes are pretty high on this ski lesson. You gotta understand, Phred, I'm not just a 36-year-old, completely non-athletic person who had a sudden urge to throw herself down a mountain. I have been avoiding this for YEARS, and now that I've finally faced up to it, failure isn't an option for me. Here's what you gotta know, Phred.
- My husband Austin loves to ski. My daughter Lucy loves to ski. And now that my son Gavin is coming on board it's extremely likely that they are going to want to do this as a family every Saturday from November through March for the next 20 years.
- My dad skis. All six of my brothers and sisters ski. All their spouses / significant others ski. All their kids ski. Everybody but me.
- Actually, not everybody: my mom doesn't ski. But she does work for Snowbird and provides all members of the family with Snowbird ski passes, Snowbird T-shirts, Snowbird sweatshirts, Snowbird stickers, and Snowbird lip balm.
- I grew up in Salt Lake, at the bottom of Big Cottonwood Canyon, half an hour from four major world-class ski resorts. I now live in Central Vermont, in close proximity to several more.
- Austin has (somewhat optimistically) outfitted me with my own skis, boots, helmet, goggles, Vermont-essential balaclava, and a season pass to Sugarbush.
I think Phred felt the pressure, and if I may say so, I think we both did a great job. By the end of the lesson I was doing fabulous wedge-turns down the mountain and only falling down occasionally.
We went back up to Sugarbush on Saturday so Lucy could "teach" me some more. Lucy's instruction technique mostly consisted of zipping by me yelling "MOM, why are you going so SLOW? Just point down the hill and GO!" I opted for Phred's advice instead. We went up the mountain again this afternoon, with Gavin at the babysitter so Lucy could race her Dad instead of waiting for her Mom to make her laborious way down to the chair lift. I'm getting a little faster, more confident and less wobbly, and I'm hoping to spend some more time with Phred this week or next. I'd like to learn how to ski with my knees together someday.
Right now I'm going to ignore my aching legs and tell you what I LOVE about skiing.
- I love watching my daughter fly down the mountain, arms and legs splayed out like a big pink letter X, racing hell bent for leather all the way to the bottom.
- I love watching Austin ski. He looks so graceful and serene. (Will I ever look like that?) I love that he always stays with Lucy but he always lets her win.
- I love riding up on the Sunshine Double lift and watching the snowboarders do jumps and tricks on the freestyle terrain below me. If they can do that, maybe I . . . ? (Or maybe not.)
- I love going to Sugarbush on a weekday when I'm the only one on the hill. Nobody to crash into, nobody to see me fall . (Not even Austin and Lucy, who lap me every time. They get in two runs for every one of mine.) We literally had the Sugar Run trail completely to ourselves this afternoon. I could follow Austin's tracks all the way down.
- I love my family. That's why I'm doing this!
I got this picture of Lucy riding up the lift with me. I couldn't get any action shots of her because she zooms down the mountain so quick. One of these days I'll have to wait at the bottom and get a picture of her on the way down.
A couple of Saturdays ago we took a break and went up to Montreal. I took the kids to the Biodome where they had a play area dedicated to animals that live in the ice and snow and cold. Lucy and Gavin make great snow creatures.
