Well, I fell off the ski lift and then spent the next hour falling down the "bunny" hill. I quickly abandoned hopes of engaging in any real skiing and made my only goal to keep my bones in tact and my tibias in their sockets. I was frightened. It was the kind of frightened that surprises you, electrocutes you, into survival mode. It still kind of makes me angry to think about it--the fear, that is.
I really don't have too many irrational fears. Spiders constitute one of them, and so does getting a flat tire. But the fear of dying at a high speed on a ski slope just really didn't feel like one of them. It kind of felt like the most dangerous and most idiotic thing I could ever do. I resorted to tipping over whenever I got up too much momentum. It made for a very slow and frankly harrowing descent. French-fry/pizza wasn't working; my legs and arms were shaking and my hip hurt pretty bad from repeated falling. I needed to gain speed to learn properly, but I needed to NOT gain speed to keep from flying off the edge of the trail into a tree. I was having visions of Sunny Bono, Natasha Richardson, and Michael Kennedy... I was far too young to die.
And there was Travis, patiently snow-plowing the entire run to keep from getting too far ahead.
Inside the lodge, I slumped into a chair and watched hundreds of people clunk by in their ski boots. Many of them were children, most of them seemed happy. Their biggest concern, whether or not the fancy-shmancy restaurant had "kid food" on the menu. The temptation to indulge in a good cry was strong. I didn't want to ruin the day for my more experienced ski companions, but I knew when to accept defeat. I'd barely started...but I also know when I'm licked, and I was licked.
...
Humility and humiliation are but two or three steps away from each other, and often the only difference between the two is what construct we choose put on the situation. It is the humiliation that brings tears of rage and frustration. Humiliation says, "How can so many people do what seems so totally beyond my potential? Humility, on the other hand, seems to bring a calm acknowledgment of our limitations--and the hope of someday overcoming them. Humility also sees the unexpected positive outgrowths of a bad situation. Like an opportunity for two people to work through a hard day and grow closer as a result.
That was good.
3 comments:
so it sounds like the day ended on a good note. well, i agree with you on the matter of you being "too young to die". perhaps snowboarding is more your style ;)
I am not a "need for speed" kind of person. I like going down the hill, but can't stand falling down. They do make very comfortable lodges for us no-goods to sit in though. ;)
You've been reading my mind again, Pear. I've been thinking so much about humility and humiliation and how I'm not sure that you can learn one without the other. And it is a good thing (if you recognize it) that comes out of something quite horrid. All that said, I'm so with you on skiing. So are all the kids. That said, I hope that one day we'll all feel the pleasure instead of the pain of skiing. Doreen's taken up snowboarding at 43 after refusing to even go back on a slope for fifteen years. She loves it!
Post a Comment