Sunday, April 6, 2008

Paralyzed by ...

The strangest thing happened to me Saturday: I was suddenly scared to ski. It was very bizarre indeed and it took me awhile to figure out what was going on.

Steve and I were at Snoqualmie on the second to last weekend of the season and this was my third time after 15 years on skis. The first two times I had blown even myself away with how naturally I seemed to pick it up again. Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely a beginner. But I had made it mostly past the snow plow phase and had moved on to awkward parallel turns.

Anyway, we go straight for a blue, which was possibly the problem. Even though I had been flying (well, perhaps "making it" is a better description) down blues the last couple trips, I had always started with a couple of runs on the green slopes first. We get off the lift and suddenly I felt like I was 13 again, with my dad in Big Bear California at the top of a black diamond that he had "accidentally" taken us on for our very first run, ever.

Even though I was facing an easy traverse before the real slope, my skis seemed absolutely foreign to me and I somehow couldn't get my balance. It was like I had never skied before in my life. The traverse shoots you out into a wide, steep (well, steep for me) slope where snowboarders and skiers of all levels are suddenly flying at you from behind. This makes me mildly nervous on a good day but now I was terrified of being hit by a rogue ski-schooler.

I made it down the run, heart beating all the time, and Steve kindly escorted me to the green slope, where I proceeded to get my right ski caught on a wall just as the lift picked up speed to move upward. Yes, I was that person. They had to stop the lift and everything. I would have been really embarrassed if I hadn't been so relieved to not have fallen off the lift all together.

So by this time, what little confidence I ever had on skis was pretty much shot. I spent the next couple of surprisingly shaky green runs puzzling over this until Steve pointed out the obvious: I was having an off-day, a very common phenomenon in any sport or physical activity. The difference was, I'm used to feeling exhausted while running or slow on a hike - I'm just not used to the fear factor. It's been awhile since fear really got in the way of my doing something, although I guess that's why I'm not a big climber. I forget sometimes how psychological outdoor activity can be, even if it doesn't involve something extreme.

Anyway, I ended up pushing through a few hours of skiing, but felt off the entire time. Maybe it was that gallon-sized cup of Peet's coffee I chugged on the drive up. That's it. I'll blame the coffee. Or Steve. He's the one that made me get it.

1 comment:

Julia said...

I know exactly the run you're talking about -- I did it last weekend! I was actually nervous right at that part where the traverse lets you out onto the more vertical run -- wasn't sure I could handle it with my ankle. But I did fine -- I'm sure you'll have better days up there next year.