Thoughts from my first skiing experience in 2006. Of all places, it was in Minnesota, but it prepared me for any conditions.
Lutsen, Minnesota (my first time) - March, 2006
Wow! How have I not skied before now?
I lived only a few hours from skiable mountains for a large part of my youth and yet only now, in my twenties, have I discovered this amazing activity. It's probably largely because mom and dad don't ski, but still...
I was a little nervous (OK, really nervous) setting out on borrowed skis, boots and with none of my own outerwear. Even with Steph's godparents and expert skiers, J.R. and Laura setting out to guide me and the support of Steph & her dad, there was no way to know how this would go.
The first run on a longer green run, all butterflies are gone. I GET IT! This is what my friends have been raving about for years. The sound of the skis cutting reminded me of ice skates. I didn't know exactly what to do, so I bent my knees and pointed them straight. I think I might have crushed some speed records on the black diamond on Moose Mountain on my 4th run of the day (it may have been a navigation accident). I didn't really know how to turn or slow down, but it was the most fun.
I found out later that the skis I borrowed were for someone six inches taller and more advanced, but I made them work. It's actually amazing that I survived the weekend. I was forced to be a little fearless and it paid off.
It planted the seed for me. The feeling of flying down a mountain with amazing views of winter all around. The embrace of the cold was exciting. Everyone was hanging out in the cold outside. The rush of going down the hill and controlling your own speed and feeling (or lack thereof.) Having goggles on to hide the fear in your eyes or the tears of joy when you get to the bottom of a challenging run. It's magic.