After a few failed attempts to make the long trip up to the mountain, I was finally able to go boarding for the first time this season with my annoyingly athletic Snow-bunny. We were super excited to hit the slopes using the new gear that we bought at the end of last year.
We spent several weeks gearing up for the first outing of the season and although I was a bundle of grumpy estrogen this morning, my bunny was rearing and ready to go at day break.
I’ve been riding for three years now and I honestly love going with her, as painful as it is the next day when I haven’t been in a while. During the winter months we go a lot and by the end of March, I usually find myself in peak condition to ride the bigger, much more difficult trails. But in the beginning of the year, it almost feels like starting anew, with little memory of last season’s trials and tribulations.
Most times, we use the first few days of the season to warm up and to get readjusted to using muscles that I never even knew existed three years ago. But as the years go by, my snow-bunny is increasingly more persistent that l abandon my love affair with the bunny slope and the ditzy doodle, in order to spend more time tumbling head over board down the bigger trails. Lord knows I love broken bones and bloody noses as much as the next girl, but I told her that since we just spent a lot of money on new gear, we ought to test it out on the novice trails first.
After much deliberation and some fussing over the new binding’s at the bottom of the hill, she agreed to accompany down the beloved bunny slope to test out our boards.
We climbed into the ski lift chair and exchanged excited smiles on our way up the hill. I felt like I might pee my pants, a sensation I feel at the beginning of every new season . I took out my ever trusty flask to alleviate my “head on ice” jitters.
Once we made it to the top, I knew something was terribly wrong when I floated effortlessly off the ski lift and my bunny tumbled past me.
I screamed, “ahh, it’s a sniper!’ Oh wait, that’s another story. Sorry, inside joke.
She crashed into a snow drift and was laid out, face first in the snow. I scooted over to her to offer a hand, check for a pulse, whatever medical attention she required.
She was ok, but startled that she had fumbled off the ski lift- a move she mastered many years ago.
Moments later we were sitting at the top of the hill and (once again) battling our new boots and bindings. I was beginning to grow more confident with my gear but I knew she was in trouble when she began to clutch her foot in extreme pain before we even started down the mountain. She was kicking and screaming in full tantrum mode upon the realization that her left boot did not fit her (slightly larger) left foot (I’ve had that problem w bra’s before).
I immediately shifted into mom mode and while hundreds of 10 year olds whizzed past us, I proceeded to remove my boot to swap with her.
Honestly, I felt like the Mother Theresa of snow boarder’s for a minute there, but was amazed to find that after all these years, I have been wearing the wrong size shoe/ boot. Ladies and gentlemen, I kid u not, as soon as I dawned the left, slightly smaller boot, it was like the heavens opened up and I went gliding down that hill like a semi- pro. I only fell once- and that wasn’t my fault! Really!
My bunny, bless her snow- boarding soul, was suddenly hopeful w her new slightly larger left boot! And I was suddenly a professional snow boarder with my slightly smaller left boot.
But of course, this is where the story takes a fateful turn. It wasn’t long before she realized that her new board is too long. She spent the entire trip down the mountain crying out and complaining that she felt like she was either doing a split or giving birth. She looked to me as if she may be doing a little of both.
Leave it to my bunny to give birth while doing a split, on a snow board. When I reached the bottom of the hill, I turned right on my toes as if I were Sean- freaking- White, flinging snow at all the many, many (about 2) onlookers who were clapping at my perfect 10 toe-stop.
I looked up to see if my snow bunny was clapping too but I felt a sudden pang of sadness when I saw her walking down the hill with an obvious limp. She had pulled a muscle from riding her misfit board and doing yoga down the hill. She was ready to go home and I was ready to go to the Olympics!
So if u catch my drift, my snow bunny and I, ended up driving 2-1/2 hours to enjoy a bowl of 68$ french onion soup.
Lift tickets- 60$
French onion soup- 8$
Driving 2-1/2 hours just to go down the slope once, and hang out at an over priced ski resort with mediocre french onion soup- priceless.
Bad joke, I know. But I had to go there. And that was my snow-boarding bedlam. Sigh. As for Sean White, I’ll be seeing you in 2014 with my new (slightly smaller) left boot!