ski school

Last December, when it was confirmed that I would be working full time this term, I was asked if I wanted to chaperone the ski club. I said, "why not!"  

Well, maybe because I have only been skiing once in my life - in middle school when we all went as a class field trip.  I feel like it was maybe eighth grade.  I'm not letting that stop me.

We head up to Michigan one night a week - I help mind the girls' bus.  Of course, they are awesome and there are far fewer ladies than boys.  The first week I just got the lay of the land, learned procedure and hung out. 

Last week I donned a pair of skis and tried to remember how to ski.

There I stood at the top of the bunny hill - that beginners lesson twelve years ago was not coming back to me.  So I looked around and asked the most none intimidating person I could find to tell the general gist.  He pointed me in the direction of a dad that was sitting while his kids refreshing their skills.  He said, "snowplow."  

Snowplow.  

Okay.  And don't fall down and break your leg. 

So I took off down the hill.  I was really flying and then oh crap I was at the bottom with lots of momentum and no knowledge of how to stop.  I tried to ramp up a hill, then slid backward and pretty soon I was down on my bum.  Now, this is all well and fine and I had stopped but standing back up - that was an issue.  Ski boots keep your ankles fixed.  I never realized how much I rely on my ankles when I fall on my rear.  After a bit of maneuvering I managed to unhook a ski from the boot and stand up.  The only problem now was trying to make it up the little gully I had found myself trapped.  

And when I say little, I mean tiny.  

I somehow managed to try to goof my way up - fortunately a fellow beginner was there to recommend I turn sideways and walk that way.  

Oh.  Duh, that makes sense.

And thus was my night.  I felt quite out of my element and so very silly but was determined to give this thing a try.  I stuck to the bunny hill.   Watching the technique of a few other people, I managed to actually figure out how snowplowing was supposed to be achieved.  I even managed to slow down and turn myself around as I got the bottom.  Yes, it is true that I did wipe-out and face-plant into the snow and managed to epically fail at the rope lift.  It was kind of sad.  But it was only that rude third grade boy in my head pointing, laughing, and making fun of me (do you have one of those?) until the kinder voice shut him up and I clamored back into my footing.  I kept at it and stuck to that bunny hill until I felt quite confident and knew that I could handle going down the normal hill on the next week's trip.  

All the chaperones meet for dinner at the lodge - which is really my favorite part of the trip.  We sit and chat over our diner-fare and cups of coffee, tea or hot chocolate until it is time to load the students up and head back to the school.

The ride home would be my other favorite part.  Sitting and chatting with the sugared-up sixth graders with slushee blue mouths while they are hyped up on post skiing adrenaline and cheap carbohydrates is really amusing.  I've made a few friends and earned a little street cred.  Well, as much as an admitted old-lady can garner on the bunny hill.

Though it may be a glorified sledding hill, I certainly won't be tackling this slope any time soon.