For better or for...can it get much worse?

Lessons learned in the past week:
1) That guy on those UPS commercials can draw real good
2) Pasteurized milk causes acne...but Rice Drink is dang tasty
3) The recommendation "try new things" does not apply to me

Let's back up. First of all, although I grew up in Colorado, I do not consider myself a gifted skier (one of my pet peeves: when first meeting a Coloradan, any non-Coloradan will ask them in a perky voice, "oh, do you ski?" in the first 4 minutes...guaranteed). Sure I could blame my lack of natural gliding/sliding talent on basketball coaches forbidding the activity, or the abnormally long length of my femurs, but I will spare you the excuses. Don't get me wrong though, I enjoy a trip to the slopes as much as the next girl...even despite my sub-par abilities. Well, Cameron and I are both here to tell you that if my skiing ability were to be compared to my snowboarding abilities, I would be considered to be at the Olympic Level.

Against my better judgment, for my first ski trip with Cameron, his dad, and his younger brother last weekend, I chose to go away from the safe skis and spring for the snowboard. Note to self: never again try new things....never...stick to what you know...always.


The silver lining of my poor decision is that I found a few things out about myself. For starters, I do not do well with not feeling competent. Secondly, I do not handle repeated falling well. Thirdly, I get a bit testy when people try to offer me advice on how to improve when the simple act of standing is difficult.

It took me about 2 hours on the slopes (I use this term loosely because it was the bunny hill) to snap out of my selfish pity party (greatly assisted by reducing the frequency of bone smashing falls). After that, I had some clarity and realized that when Cameron agreed to "for better or for worse" last year, I doubt he imagined me getting that bad. In retrospect, I think he will back up my decision to never again try anything new. Hopefully this joint choice will allow the "for better" Katie moments to outweigh the "for worse" Katie moments.

Once I was over my tantrum, Cameron and I had a great day. I will admit that it felt odd skiing someplace that 1) I could feel my lungs and 2) had no snow anywhere but on the slopes, but I was able to set aside my snobbery and enjoy the scenery.


Most of our "post bunny hill" day was spent on a gently rolling GREEN that bordered the "big boy" slopes...by way of the "big boy" lift. Note to new snowboarders: never go on the "big boy" lift. Spring Breeze (or whatever the run was called) was not very crowded and offered the right dose of challenge while still keeping me from throwing yet another oh-so-attractive tantrum.



Around about 3:00, after one hard fall in the list of many, I confided in Cameron that if I fell on my "fanny" one more time, I was sure bone would be splitting. So, being the problem solving specialists that we are, we decided to "pull" to the side of the run, have me "drop trou" and then stuff Cameron's coat down the back side of my pants for padding (a chore that took four hands, extreme balance, and an abnormal amount of strength). The comfort on falls from then on was worth the nasty looks we got during the application phase. After 3:00 - aside from the severe pain in my knees, wrists, and hands - falls were much more tolerable.

On to my next beef: the design of the home stretch of the Spring Breeze. Near the end of the run there was a straight away accompanied by a strange right to left slant and a slight uphill. Recipe for disaster. No matter what I did, I could not get "over the hump". Threw a different technique at it every time down the slope...ended up in the bushes and trees each time. My chosen problem solving technique? I would unstrap the board, throw it under my arm, and sprint to try to catch up to Cameron at the lift. This worked well the first couple of times, but for some strange reason, the running distance increased with each passing run. I might have been trying too hard...I don't know. By the end of the day I was running about 150 yards in an attempt to not make Cameron wait for me to try to figure out how to not stall out. For added entertainment, every sprint after 3:00 was slowed by the fact that the snowboard was under one arm and my other arm was grasping the wadded up jacket (forming a huge booty that prevented me from buttoning my pants)...trying to keep me from losing my drawers with every step. To top off the visual, I was wearing a huge gray helmet - to protect my fragile, oh-too-often hit head - that would jiggle down my forehead and start to obstruct my view (no hand available to correct it).

It was during my last 150 yard sprint when I looked up to see Cameron down by the lift watching me and I could only imagine what he had to have been asking himself, "For better or for worse? Till death do us part? Oh man, what did I get myself into?"

Good thing I married a guy who can enjoy life even when his "better half" is acting like a two-year-old.


Well, it has been about a week since our snowboarding trip and just today am I starting to have hope that I have not done irreparable damage to my pelvic bones. My hands have recently stopped shaking any time they have to bear weight. My elbows and knees, which have been a tasteful shade of purple/blue, are starting to look and feel normal. Hey, even my ego seems to be recovering.

Try new things? No. Lesson learned.