I can get off the ski life standing up – damn straight. I just put the board down, glided off until I hit the snow bank to stop, threw my hands in the air, then looked all around to see who saw that miracle. That’s right bitches, I can get off the bunny hill ski lift upright, not the summit lift because you’ve got to be kidding me there is a steep drop right off the lift and I’m supposed to glide off that? I just didn’t even try and I hit it right when I got off and laid there laughing while I heard that infamous siren that indicates “idiot fell off the lift and we all have to stop and wait until she gets up off her ass.” My ass was bruised at the point, so it took a while.
And while you can’t really tell by the look of my knees, I did a bit better than last time at the snowboarding. Which means I glided across the end zone standing up (I didn’t know how to stop so I just hit it face first only to have a 7 yr old ask “ooooh, are you okaaay?”) but point being, if there was a photo finish, I’d be standing in it.
And at the end of the day, all I wanted was to have the 2.5 mile beginner run under my belt, just something to brag about really. So that’s when ex-boy and I took the lift to the 8,000ft summit. And it was cold, and kept snowing, and my gloves were wet on the inside, and why did I start feeling like ass half-way up? But I wasn’t going to complain, I’m a hard-ass snowboarder. So I sucked it up and when I managed to peel myself off the snow coming off the lift, I kicked off my board and ran to the nasty smokey meat restaurant because I didn’t know why but suddenly I have that I’m gonna hurl sensation. Altitude sickness – who knew?
After warming up a bit, we started the beginning of the run, head on into blinding snow drifts. Ex-boy hit it thinking he would surely run into someone. But me, I was so tired of falling and getting back up that I just kept on, maybe even closing my eyes because I was nauseated and tired and it’s not like I could see anyway, or control my speed really. Realizing if I didn’t hit it now I was probably going to hit it on that tree, I skid down on my butt and the fresh snow hit my face and ouch did I lose the skin on my face somewhere because I CAN’T FEEL MY FACE. And I kicked off my board, and with 2.25 miles left of the run, I gave up and started walking down, burping all the way from my leftover altitude nausea. A few hills down, I got back on it. But it was flat, so I stood on my board and did a very awkward wiggle to try to get myself going until I ended up just reaching down and pushing myself along in the snow to the next hill until I could build some speed. Any way you look at it, I made it down that 2.5 mile beginner run, and then ran ran ran to the car to get back to the lodge only to take Jack snowshoeing again before the hurt really set in.
The cabin was fun, and Jack hopped up on the bed in front of the fireplace and laid there for hours with a smile on his face. When we lived in Pensacola, I knew I could get stuck there living near the water, working in a touristy place at the beach, as long as I can be outdoors near the beach (not some retail job where your manager asks if a colleague is trying to make herself rape-proof, yeeeeah ask me about that.) It’s the same reason I hesitate to go to Hawaii – just give me a job at a surf shop and put me outdoors near the beach and I will be content for life. If I could run a kayak, bike, ski rental shop in Tahoe and be near water and outdoors, I probably wouldn’t flinch. But this led to a conversation between me and ex-boy about being content verses being satisfied that will surely come up again.