I Did It

Or at least tried . . . to ski that is. My sweetie has wanted to take me skiing for the last few years. A few weeks ago we took advantage of a deal that included overnight accommodations, ski school, an all day lift ticket, and rentals. We loaded up the kids to take them to Nana's, packed up our own stuff, and headed to Bear Creek Resort in PA.

We arrived at 4:00 which was as early as we could check in. By 5:00 we were lined up for ski school. This was really for me as I have never in my life been on snow skis. My hubby was just there for my moral support (and an occasional hand to lift me up.) After three hours I had run into a child (unfortunately I knew his parents), tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to "lean forward" in my skis, attempted to ski down the bunny hill, and was sent back down to the corral of ski school to have one on one attention by the head instructor. By 8:00 I was done and unsure what the next day would bring.

Aside from the disconcerting beginning, I enjoyed the resort as a whole. The rooms were beautiful. The lobby sitting areas were comfortable, inviting and beautifully decorated. Honestly it wouldn't take much for me to enjoy an evening away with my hubby.

The sun rose the next day introducing a gorgeous day. For someone who is always cold, it was perfect weather.

My day also began at ski school . . . again.

I spent the next three hours trying again to manage these insane things strapped to the end of my legs. Only five minutes into it tears were no longer held in check. My instructor didn't know quite what to do. I sent my sweetie up on the slopes himself (he had gone on his own before – because he knew what he was doing.) I on the other hand decided that maybe a new pair of boots might, just might help.

They did. At least a little – who am I kidding?

Shortly after lunch, things started to click. I and some other clueless moms hung out together and made it down the bunny slope safely. The next task was the ski lift.

When all was said and done, the smallest hill with a lift was as far as I dared to go. Even on that, I fell every time. By the last trip down, the warmer weather slush had turned icy in the cooler afternoon. I managed to fall not once, but three times. Remember the Wild World of Sports advertisements? Think that kind of fall with skis and poles flying. Once I determined that nothing was broken, I stood with determination that that was my very last run. My husband agreed.

I enjoyed sitting and watching. My sweetie enjoyed the slopes on his own.

Maybe it's because I am a mom. Maybe I am anxious about getting hurt. Maybe I am just not a good skier at all. In any case, I tried. I may never try again. I can enjoy hot chocolate in the lodge and be the designated photographer. I will be back I think, just don't look for me on the slopes.