Downhill Battle

When people say, "It's all downhill from here," I look at it two ways: Either the rest is a lot easier or it's all going to get worse. The word, downhill sounds fairly negative to me, despite its implication of ease.

You may recall from my last post that I have a skiing class on the schedule for this term. Tuesday was the first trip to the resort, where I quite literally hit the slopes for the first time in almost two years.

I've skied once before - with my younger brother and dad during my last spring break of high school. When I recall that day I tend to emphasize the last hour or so on the slopes (actually, the beginners' slope), when I finally got the hang of it and enjoyed myself; this is what I had in mind getting on the bus this week. What I failed to remember was the five-hour chunk that started out my first skiing experience: it was quite possibly the most frustrating day of my life. My dad and brother had skied a few times before and pretty much knew what they were doing, but they were by no means ski instructors. Nevertheless, Dad gave me a condensed lesson on the basics of turning and stopping, which turned out to be incorrect as I discovered after wiping out countless times. Outraged by my lack of coordination and sore from the uncomfortable ski boots, I retired to the car for a rest. When I tried again by myself, I finally made it down the slope without difficulty and actually enjoyed skiing!

At our introductory meeting for the current ski class, the instructor had us pick our skill-level based on the basic maneuvers we could handle. Well, the last time I went, I was able to do some wide turns and wedge moves, so I marked that level. Upon arriving at the slopes, I was placed in the group just above non-experienced (where my Floridian roommate started), but when I stood among my group and realized how awkward the skis felt, dread crept through my nerves.
Maybe skiing isn't like riding a bike.

I told our group instructor, Sherm, that I thought I should maybe move down a level; I'd been only once and it was a long time ago. He talked to Bruce, the beginning instructor, who suggested I'd be bored in his group since they were going to be hiking around for a while before skiing. A few other people in my group said they were in the same boat so we all figured I'd be fine.
It started with the chair lifts. I still had very little control over my own movements with the planks on my feet, so I missed the first two chairs I was supposed to take and finally someone pushed me up to the line to get on. I don't remember how getting off went, but I fell down twice after the lift on my way to the group. Getting back up after a fall is a skill I perfected by the end of class, but it was still difficult in the beginning. I probably wasted five minutes of the class's time before the instructor told me he was sending me back down to the other group. He asked if I could make it down to the rope tow okay and I figured I had no other choice, so I said yes.
They left me up there.
It took an hour for me to get down the three or four slopes between me and my new group because I was practicing falling... every time it was meet to turn, I picked a new and exotic way to biff it. Occasionally I would sit for a few minutes, glad my pants were waterproof and mad that my goggles were fogged up. I fought back tears of embarrassment and frustration when members of my initial group were going up the lifts for the third time since leaving me and Sherm was calling to me from the lift, shocked that I still hadn't made it down. I had forgotten everything about controlling myself on skis and was exhausted from pushing myself back up countless times.
I finally slid over to the group where the instructors (Bruce and Jerry) and my roommate were relieved to see me (Sherm had told them I'd be there).
They referred to the trip down as my survival run and patiently retaught me the basics of skiing. It came quickly to me and apparently my posture on the skis was great - it helps being on a more subtle slope. It was a much safer and more enjoyable second half of class fixing the poorly laid foundation of my skiing skills with the help of Bruce and Jerry. The muscle aches that arrived Wednesday morning finally wore off around Friday and I regained range of motion in my limbs - at least until next Wednesday.

As cheesy as it sounds, I realized from this experience that it's better to be humble, underestimate one's abilities and need to move up a level than to overestimate, be embarrassed and move down.
So the downhill of this week was mostly negative, but now that I'm in the right group, I think it will just keep getting better.