deathplow

so a few weeks ago, i went on my first family vacation. well, first in-law vacation. a ski trip to park city, utah.

let me preface this story by saying that i did not begin skiing until i dated my husband. he grew up skiing and next to him, i look like a newborn deer learning to stand for the first time. i've taken lessons and been skiing a few times over the past 4 years, so i'm what you would call an intermediate beginner...clearly i've come a long way from my beginner beginner days (when i used to pitch my poles and pinwheel down the mountain..ok, so i still do that on occasion). i grew up "protected" from sports. my mom was worried i'd get hurt, or worse, scar my legs! instead, i grew up to wear high heels that resulted in foot surgery, which left me with a hideous scar on my toe (just goes to show you that one cannot escape destiny). before i left for the trip, my mother gave me a little advice, "honey, don't try to show off out there." right, mom, show off. that was my initial plan. but you're right, i'll decide against it.

as i mentioned, my husband grew up skiing and so did his entire family. upon arriving in salt lake, our first stop was to the ski shop...to buy me a helmet. at first, i thought, i'm not really flying down advanced runs so why is a helmet necessary? it would be like me wearing a helmet to walk around downtown. but then my sister-in-law lovingly pointed out how natasha richardson took a light tumble on a green run and DIED. soooooooooo, i bought a helmet. a children's helmet (yes, my head is that small). i was torn between the dora the explorer and ninja designs but in the end opted for my brown helmet with a ninja on the back.

ok, to the mountain.

day 1 - we start the day with the bunny hill so my body can remember what it has to do. i like to call that my french fry/pizza run (and this is why i'm only an intermediate beginner. i still use the french fry/pizza technique to describe skiing).  i warmed up and got to the greens. by the end of the day, i did one or two blues and called it a success.

day 2 - i like to refer to this day as "the day i escaped death". feeling confident, i was ready to go. i skied some greens and blues before lunch, met up with the fam for a bite to eat, and then it was time to hit the mountain. my in-laws suggested we all take a blue together. at this point, i apparently thought i was olympic material so i was like, "great idea, let's do it!" we take the lift up and i ski off the lift and then the run curves. when i go around the curve, i see that my husband and mother-in-law are stopped....AT THE EDGE OF A CLIFF. this is a blue run?! after a few minutes, the rest of the fam continued the run but there i was. staring down the mountain, certain that this run would either kill me or break every bone in my body. my husband tried to encourage me and said, "don't get scared. you can always just pizza down." ok, pizza down. ok yes, i can do that. i moved my skis ready to pizza slice them across the mountain. but in the process, they french-fried and i went flying until i managed to go into ragdoll mode and pinwheel down a few feet. that's when i went into full panic attack mode and was hyperventilating (for the record, a panic attack on a mountain is not ideal. also, i really question my fight/flight response if in the face of death, i'm going to just hyperventilate. good to know in case of a major emergency). anyway, my husband convinced me to take my skis off and try to walk down the steep portion. so i did. and that is the last time i listen to my husband. what i learned is that when you're on a steep run and you take off your skis, you go deathplowing (yes, DEATHPLOWING) down a mountain and your boots only help you gain more speed. so as i'm plowing down, i'm basically scraping along, trying to dig my fingers into the snow to slow me down or better yet stop me. i finally stopped at which point i put my skis back on and pizza'ed my way to the flatter part of the run. it took me about an 45 minutes to finish that run. i ended the day with 4 big bruises along the inside of my leg and a lifetime worth of trauma.

day 3 - it is really a surprise that i even put skis on. it was almost like i was tempting fate. but day 3 was good. i skied blues all day with a couple falls sprinkled a long the way just so god could remind me why my mother "protected" me from sports all those years. near the end of the day, i skied a blue run with my husband, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and his gf. there i am, skiing down a blue! i can't believe it. i've done great that day! as i'm reciting "left foot, right foot" over and over again (that's my alternative to french fry/pizza), i suddenly see a snowboard to my right, a few inches from my face. luckily, it misses my face but clips my wrist. in the midst of all this, i somehow managed to just calmly turn left and come to a stop. meanwhile, everyone i was skiing with just saw an out of control snowboarder pummel into me, barely missing my head (i'm still not sure how it is humanly possible to get your snowboard 5 feet off the ground). my husband comes over to see if i'm ok and i just tell him that my wrist hurts and it'll prob just bruise (oh you know, just another bruise to add to the collection i'm putting together on this trip). my brother-in-law decides to chase the snowboarder down the mountain. did i mention the snowboarder was 12?

day 4 - who will try to kill me today? as it turns out, no one. i skied greens and blues. i did a few mini moguls when i decided to follow my husband down a path between a few trees. (note to self, do not ski on paths between trees) but all in all, it was uneventful. i didn't fall. there was no hyperventilating. and no snowboarder tried to crush my skull. success!

i made it home, a little tattered and a lot bruised but able to say i skied my first blues! oh and, i'd like to thank my sister-in-law for encouraging me to buy a helmet.  best advice ever...aside obviously from my mother's wise words to not show off.