This morning I woke up so sore that I literally had to flop out of bed and I was reminded of what I did to my body yesterday out of free will. Snowboarding. My neck is sore sore that I have trouble holding my head up. I had to pathetically crawl into my bed last night and flop around trying to get comfortable because I was too sore to control normal muscle movements. There are only a few times I say I'm so sore that my cells hurt and snowboarding is one of them. It's like, "Man, I think I bruised my nucleus on that last fall." The only bruises you should have after snowboarding are on your knees, tailbone, and elbows. I, however, have bruises on my knees, tailbone, back of my head, hips, shoulder blades, and calfs (which I don't really understand how I made that happen). They teach you to fall on your elbows and forearms instead of your wrists, but you know what? I don't have time to think about the proper way to tumble down the slope when my board decides to go left and my body says right. One thing I know is that the only other time the bruises on my knees have been this bad was when I slipped on a squished grape in the grocery store while trying to buy wine, and I was glared at like I was an incompetent baby giraffe. (When I picture myself falling, I picture a baby giraffe learning how to walk on its stilt legs because being tall, I also have stilt legs that account for 80% of my height. It's fitting really)
So anyway, I like to snowboard, if that's what you call what I do. And I must admit, after actually taking a class that sort of taught me how to properly snowboard, I can actually say I'm an expert (at the beginner level)
Snowboarding school is supposed to teach you how to board perfectly and then send you on your way to conquer black diamonds, but really it teaches you some tricks and then sends you out on your own to be left hoping that everyone else signed their safety waiver. Or, if you were like the mom in our class, you end up getting to the top of the hill only to slide on your butt, out of control, to the bottom while the instructor looks helplessly on, debating if it's worth chasing after a lost cause or if she should stay with the rest of the freak show she calls her class. She chose us. We all watched the mom clatter to the bottom managing to take out a few snow-making machines on the way. Let's just say her lesson was cut short.
I guess I can't really talk though because Cecylia and I's first snowboarding experience was more than horrendous.
Last year was the first time we snowboarded and we decided to teach ourselves. Bad idea. For some reason, we believed we could manage any movement while having the board strapped to both our feet verses having one free to steer the board. This didn't work because the first time I stood up from the sitting position with the board, I tipped completely over and basically did a face-plant and slid partway down the bunny hill on my stomach. Also, we didn't really practice riding the board before we decided to get on the ski lift, which you are definitely supposed to do. Definitely.
Being older, the lift operator automatically assumes you are skilled enough to ride the lift with a 9 year old snowboarder in training. There are a couple of things wrong with this assumption. First, I am not skilled enough to get off the lift with a tiny person next to me... I will probably plow them over. Second, the 9 year old was teaching me how to sit on the lift properly... there's something wrong with that. And third, did I mention that this is my first time ever on a snowboard. Did you not just see me crawl on my hands and knees through the lift line? Really, the only thing good about having a ski schooler with you is that you can tell the lift operator at the end to slow down the lift for the little kid so they can get off easier (when really it's you who needs them to slow down the lift). Let me tell you, getting off the lift is the most adrenaline-charged exhilarating moment when snowboarding... and in the most unhealthy-for-your-heart-and-health way possible. It's about 3-5 seconds of sheer terror because you are at the mercy of the board.
It didn't matter how slow the lift chair was moving though, I ran into the red fence poles at the end of the lift and wiped out anyways. To make matters worse, we wore these bright pink fluffy hats which would have been cool if we were good. Instead it just drew the wandering eye's attention to just how bad we were. Sometimes that wandering eye was the first-aid ski patrol.
I could bore you with stories about how bad I probably looked going down the slopes, half the time wiping out and the other half praying I didn't wipe out, but I don't want to relive painful, painful memories. This year was much better though. I actually managed to do multiple S-curves down the green level hills. It's a start, okay? This year, I only spent 30% of the time falling, 50% hoping I didn't fall, and 20% actually "shredding the gnar".
But someday I will be Shaun White. Someday I will spend 100% of the time shredding the gnar. Someday
Last year was the first time we snowboarded and we decided to teach ourselves. Bad idea. For some reason, we believed we could manage any movement while having the board strapped to both our feet verses having one free to steer the board. This didn't work because the first time I stood up from the sitting position with the board, I tipped completely over and basically did a face-plant and slid partway down the bunny hill on my stomach. Also, we didn't really practice riding the board before we decided to get on the ski lift, which you are definitely supposed to do. Definitely.
Being older, the lift operator automatically assumes you are skilled enough to ride the lift with a 9 year old snowboarder in training. There are a couple of things wrong with this assumption. First, I am not skilled enough to get off the lift with a tiny person next to me... I will probably plow them over. Second, the 9 year old was teaching me how to sit on the lift properly... there's something wrong with that. And third, did I mention that this is my first time ever on a snowboard. Did you not just see me crawl on my hands and knees through the lift line? Really, the only thing good about having a ski schooler with you is that you can tell the lift operator at the end to slow down the lift for the little kid so they can get off easier (when really it's you who needs them to slow down the lift). Let me tell you, getting off the lift is the most adrenaline-charged exhilarating moment when snowboarding... and in the most unhealthy-for-your-heart-and-health way possible. It's about 3-5 seconds of sheer terror because you are at the mercy of the board.
It didn't matter how slow the lift chair was moving though, I ran into the red fence poles at the end of the lift and wiped out anyways. To make matters worse, we wore these bright pink fluffy hats which would have been cool if we were good. Instead it just drew the wandering eye's attention to just how bad we were. Sometimes that wandering eye was the first-aid ski patrol.
I could bore you with stories about how bad I probably looked going down the slopes, half the time wiping out and the other half praying I didn't wipe out, but I don't want to relive painful, painful memories. This year was much better though. I actually managed to do multiple S-curves down the green level hills. It's a start, okay? This year, I only spent 30% of the time falling, 50% hoping I didn't fall, and 20% actually "shredding the gnar".
But someday I will be Shaun White. Someday I will spend 100% of the time shredding the gnar. Someday
