HealthyBea

Skiing Round #2

The start of this blog post marks day #1 of my 2^nd ever skiing adventure. Weeks leading up to this trip filled me with endless nerves and stress. But those feelings are not a result of an unsuccessful first ski adventure (last year). Quite the contrary – all things considered, it was an achievement. I didn’t break a bone and I started to transition out of the so affectionately named beginner’s “pizza” position and into the more experienced “french fry,” or “float” as my instructor says. I moved onto blue slopes and accidentally touched a red while avoiding death. All positive things, right?! 

The hardest part for me (aside from the steepest moments at the start of a run and occasional icing or bumpy bits along the descent) was mental. It was getting dropped off with a French ski instructor I didn’t know for 3 hours each morning, making up for the 20 years of my life I could have been practicing like all of the aficionados around me. It was learning how to use my body in a different way. It was being coached in the afternoons by my family. It was constant concentration. 

My first trip taught me patience, taught me how to navigate calm amongst fear, taught me how to find warmth and contentment in the cold, taught me a new routine. It led me to wake up early, not to hit the gym, but instead to eat breakfast at a time I would never fathom during my normal schedule. It forced me to limit water consumption for 3 hours. It did not allow me to be precious about my appearance.

As you can probably see, this holiday impacted me by throwing each and every one of my comforts and norms out the door. But at the end of the day, I recently reflected that this was no different from the type of discomfort I already so frequently seek in order to grow. It is the sort of feeling this littler Midwesterner has chased since moving first to the foreign streets of New York City and then to London. So why should this circumstance be any different? 

The Beginning

Today I am sitting here in France at 7:43am local time (6:43am UK time) in my thermals while sipping Lavazza coffee (the best the French can offer) and enjoying a yogurt bowl with 100% natural peanut butter, local berries, and a banana. We are heading to pick up my kit (boots, skis, and poles) at 8:30am. I am meditating on how much easier and more enjoyable I would like to make day #1 of ski trip #2. I am choosing to embrace the disorder, unknown, freedom, and privilege that these next 4 days offer. Let’s go get this!  

Day 1

Following a successful day in the mountains and a good night’s sleep, morning #2 presents itself with a more reasonable breakfast hour (8:25am) and a new assurance that I can enjoy skiing! Obviously, a degree of coordination and ability are prerequisites to navigating such optimism toward the sport, but I attribute most of this success to the mindset I set yesterday. And isn’t that amazing? The ability of our thoughts and perspective to completely alter an experience. This outlook allowed me to implement a few key changes to my game:  

• Gain speed while traveling down the slope and length of time in action before needing a break
• Begin to set the path in front of my instructor (instead of following his tracks) 
• Regain control after I start to lose my stride 
• Recover my confidence and technique after falling
• Smile, have fun, and understand why people actually love the sport

Because the success of my skiing days seems to hinder on the sentiment of thoughts flowing through my mind, I am approaching day #2 again with ease, open-mindedness, and enjoyment. Let’s make it a good one 😊 

Days 2 & 3

In all honesty, I stopped writing for a few days because Monday and Tuesday brought me less optimistic ski experiences. (I know, what a stark contrast to my bright analysis above…but that’s life, right?). Not only did I encounter dizziness and nausea from the altitude and limited visibility, but I also dealt with the residual fear of a particularly daunting fall.

It didn’t occur on a huge hill and I wasn’t even moving fast, but I was attempting the oh so lovely (but actually oh so difficult) “drift.” You know, knees together, legs perfectly parallel, skis painting the mountain with small, fluid brushstrokes. I understand that this move’s intention is to offer control, but my imperfect form currently supplies much less. The tips of my ski crossed and my head was thrown into the snow rather abruptly. Dramatic me instinctually dives into the worst case scenario. My instructor and I were worried about a broken nose or concussion. There were tears and a little blood.

As a result, I ended my 3-hour lesson one hour early as I sat in the cold replaying the fall in my head while waiting for our family lunch. My husband arrived and I cried more. Once I was mostly reassured that physically nothing was seriously wrong, I became worried that I would never be brave enough to ski with my (ski-obsessed family) again! I thought this would scar me forever.

Luckily, some supportive in-laws, a hearty mountain salad, and a steaming matcha latte encouraged me to get back out there in the afternoon. And thank goodness I did because I was able to reaffirm my (very limited) capabilities and reduce the fear of my upcoming last day of skiing. I completed a few runs (following my husband’s tracks and followed by my father-in-law) without a fall and called it a day.  

Day 4

I was open-minded about my final morning because I so badly wanted to give it my all to ensure that I could gain as much skill as possible before completing this year’s ski holiday. Thankfully, I was gifted with sun and full visibility, which allowed me to accomplish a trickier (for me) red run. I won’t go into detail to explain my final fall of the week, but know that it still happened – this story isn’t all roses and butterflies!

Lessons Learned 

Luckily, I have the most patient and supportive husband and in-laws, so they were there for me every step of the way. But perhaps more importantly, they do not beat around the bushes; they tell it like it is. Therefore, once confident that I was stable after a few upsets, they urged me not to let future accidents impact me so much. My family reassured me that falls happen all the time (even to more adept skiers) and the chances of really getting hurt are low (given my wonderful instructor and the safety precautions he trains me to follow), so I shouldn’t be embarrassed or scared. 

I know this lesson in general is well-known and may even sound cliché, but it is important for us to apply to our unique situations. We must first seek activities that equally scare us and contribute to our growth, but vitally, we also need to be comfortable failing along the way. It has been a while since I’ve been humbled by this feeling of defeat, and I choose to believe that it’s a healthy reminder. It allows me to apply my resiliency and find pride in working through difficult and intimidating situations. How can we expect to grow physically, spiritually, mentally, and intellectually if we don’t embrace challenging activities and set ambitious goals? How can we expect to experience ultimate happiness and fulfillment if we only maintain our comfortable habits and activities? 

Of course, the decision is yours, but I think you could do more, just as this skiing trip has reminded me that I, too, can achieve more. We just need to be brave and bold enough to do so! Whether it’s embarking on a new activity, trying again after failing, or committing to an arduous objective, let’s find mutual comfort in seeking the difficulty needed to improve ourselves. 

Now, go get them!

Bea ❤