… all it took for me was a bit of instruction. I spent Friday skiing for the second time in my life. I didn’t receive strong guidance the first time I attempted it and, well, I remember that as long as a didn’t mind falling as a means to right myself I could stay up on the hill with experienced skiers as long as I didn’t mind hearing them laugh at my ineptitude. As you probably have guessed, I have been in no hurry to try skiing again.
Most of the people in my office, my boss especially, are ski nuts. One of my co-workers (who had a few extra lift tickets that she would have not been able to use before the season ends) went to my boss to organize a lab meeting, that would just happen to take place at a ski resort. More dreading the event than looking forward to it, I went only to promote lab solidarity.
My ski instructor turned out to be about as articulate and compassionate as your typical high school football coach. This was actually a blessing (for me at least) since, when it comes to physical activities, that tends to be the teaching style from which I learn best. After I mastered the bunny slope I graduated to “Butterscotch” that, instead of a rope pull, was supported by an actual lift. The first time off of the lift I stood up and fell over. The second time off I turned the wrong way, went down into a pit and hit the pillar supporting the lift tower (didn’t fall though). By boss was just in front of me laughing his ass off. So was I. The third time I came of the lift I stayed erect and managed to turn the correct direction. From then on I went down the slope a few more times without incident.
I think with a couple more lessons I’ll be able to tame the slopes that the “big kids” enjoy.
