Have you ever been freaked out about something? I don't mean nervous or scared but totally and completely petrified out of your mind thinking about something that you will have to do. There's no way out. No going back. Go straight for nerve jail. No passing Go and no collecting $200. How do you deal with it? Well, I'll tell you how I dealt with it: yes, crying, duh. But also gritting my teeth through the tears and, in the words of my former employer: Just Do(ing) It.
I skied down Mt. Hood yesterday. Wait, let me start at the beginning. I hiked Mt. Hood yesterday. Not all the way to the top, thanks to a certain Mr Sleeping Beauty, but 3/5 of the way up. Not being a watch-wearer, I don't know how long it took us. If I had to estimate, I'd say somewhere between a long time and a really long time. Let me describe the weight of the pack I had to carry on my back because it weighed somewhere between extremely heavy and you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-there's-no-way-I-can-stand-in-the-parking-lot-with-this-thing-on-let-alone-climb-several-miles-up-a-mountainside. Inside were 2 ski boots, 2 skis, water, extra clothes, snacks, my mountain locater beeper and probably a couple of sets of Encyclopedia Britannica and water buffalo. On the way up we met some friendly folk due to the fact that I was hiking with He Who Chats With Everyone. (Sleeping Beauty's native american name. this is a good thing by the way - I've met some fun people and had many laughs thanks to Chats.) We met Mr. & Mrs. Rich Old Couple, Single Dad who is contemplating going back to school to teach, Acquaintance From the Lodge who practically ran right past us and Two Guys With Same Pace. If you've never hiked Mt. Hood, don't. If you do, you might as well go all the way to the top. There's no sense in going halfway. You're going to be knocking on death's door no matter how far you go, so why not have the best view possible while you're knocking?
So 2 pieces of bread, a Zone bar and half of a Chips Ahoy 100 calorie pack later, we had finished our approximately 1.5 mile hike. Water was consumed. Oxygen was inhaled and prayers of gratitude were expressed. As hard and horrible as it was hiking up, the worst was yet to come. Now was the part I'd been dreading since I heard the answer to my question: how do you get down? The answer was what I was about to do: just ski down. I'm sorry, just? I don't just ski down a mountain. Cats don't just swim and Ashlee Simpson doesn't just sing. These things are not natural and do not often happen unless the universe sails through a twilight zone or worm hole. Forgetting everything about the actual equipment and the actual act of snowplowing, I forgot to pack my pants, so this was already off to a horrible start. Not to mention the fact that an employee of the moutain was standing right there watching us. When confused about what to do first, Mr. I'm Super Good at Snowboarding told me nonchalantly to "just put on the boots & skis." Uh, I don't just do anything that comes to skiing. I don't even really remember how to put them on. I know my foot goes in the foot hole because it looks like a big boot and I know how to put my shoes on each morning but beyond that - I'm clueless.
With the boots on and left ski locked on, it came time for the right ski to be put on. I couldn't do it, fell on my butt and popped out of my left ski. That means I have to put the left one on again too. Great. Great start. Meanwhile, let me give you a picture of what's going on in the background on the actual run: a competitive ski group has been swishing by and going in between the red & blue gates and basically looking like Olympians in my eyes. If I get this snowplowing down, I'll be happy.
With all equipment attached correctly, poles in my hand and my bag on the back of Mr. Man With the Patience of Job, I headed down the mountain. and I fell. shocker. let me just give you the rundown of the next 5 minutes: crying behind my sunglasses, falling, trying my darndest to make sure Mr. I Have an Insane Amount of Patience doesn't see that I'm crying, more falling, verbalizing my timidity by saying "You have no idea how far out of my comfort zone I am!", falling, repeating my favorite phrase "ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh" (must be said in multiples of 3) and falling some more. Whether it was intentional or not, Mr. Amazing always let me get up by myself & start again.
I can't describe to you my intense dislike for just about everything during those first 5 minutes. Maybe if I had skied more than twice in my entire life, and if the last time wasn't more than 10 years ago and if I had left the bunny trail at least once during those 2 times I wouldn't have minded. But for someone with ego problems who thinks they have to be an expert at everything they do, this was very humbling. I disliked that stupid mountain, I was mad at myself for not being able to do it, disliked all the Olympians I had to share the mountain with, disliked the people on the chair lifts who were obviously staring at me, laughing and then talking about me the rest of the day, I disliked the sun for being way too bright, the elevation for giving me an insane headache and even Mr. Amazing for talking me into doing this ridiculous adventure. Oh, and did I mention the 6 year olds in racing gear that were swooshing by me at 200 mph? I was so terrified, at one point I think I actually started to pray I would pass out from altitude sickness. Then again, there was a lack of oxygen flowing to the brain, so I may be making that up.
Goal #1: snowplow straight down. Once I mastered this, I started going faster downhill which I wanted to avoid at all costs so I would turn right and stop myself. When Mr. I'm Still Amazing reminded me that I was only going 1 mph and everything was fine because he was literately right behind me, I reminded him that I had never been down something so steep before and it was fast to me. Now, I don't know if you've ever being sking but, the thing with ski runs is, they don't span the entire mountain. They have boundaries. So the snowplow straight/turn right plan worked for a while but sooner or later I was going to run into some barriers so I had to learn to turn left. I completely empathize with Derek Zoolander now. First attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. Luckily by now, I was most accomplished at getting back up. Second attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. I did eventually turn left without falling but I'm pretty sure I still screamed or made some noise that sounded like a swear word. It must have been a noise because I never swear except in traffic. But it may be justified because the Olympians were now taking their second pass down the mountain and threatening my life by flying past me at 90 mph several hundred feet away from where I was on my butt.
OK, so now I can snowplow straight, turn right and turn left. One more factor that I had to get down: the poles. Apparently I had been crossing them in front of me when I would turn. Apparently that's not what you're supposed to do. I'm not sure my brain is capable of thinking about skis AND poles at the same time, so I basically kept them dragging in the snow at all times. If I was about to fall, I'd forget about my snowplowing and dig my poles into the ground. I'm sure at this point I looked really awesome.
At this point I had convinced myself that hiking down would have been WAY faster. Maybe one of the elementary school-aged Olympians would mow me down and then I could just roll all the way down to the parking lot. Then I could sue for damages, buy my own mountain and never have to worry about anyone knocking me over again. Wait, that would imply that I would actually desire to go through this again. Yep, brain is definitely oxygen deficient.
With all of this chatter going on in my brain, somewhere along the way I had stopped crying and I was doing multiple passes before pausing and then I would remain upright when I was paused. Wait a sec, I may be able to do this. I don’t know when the switch flipped, but it did. I remained petrified and the family of butterflies living my stomach must have been [insert religion/culture that encourages big families] because they had been multiplying like crazy but I wasn’t falling down. Mr. I Have a Cute Snowboard Because it Has a Turtle on It But Don’t Call It Cute Because I’m a Dude could even board away from me, get a few airs and hopefully enjoy himself a little because I was alright on my own.
Yes I made it down to the parking lot and no, the snow didn’t melt and go through my clothes.
So, what do you do when you have to do something that you don’t want to do?
YOU DO IT!!!
I skied down Mt. Hood yesterday. Wait, let me start at the beginning. I hiked Mt. Hood yesterday. Not all the way to the top, thanks to a certain Mr Sleeping Beauty, but 3/5 of the way up. Not being a watch-wearer, I don't know how long it took us. If I had to estimate, I'd say somewhere between a long time and a really long time. Let me describe the weight of the pack I had to carry on my back because it weighed somewhere between extremely heavy and you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-there's-no-way-I-can-stand-in-the-parking-lot-with-this-thing-on-let-alone-climb-several-miles-up-a-mountainside. Inside were 2 ski boots, 2 skis, water, extra clothes, snacks, my mountain locater beeper and probably a couple of sets of Encyclopedia Britannica and water buffalo. On the way up we met some friendly folk due to the fact that I was hiking with He Who Chats With Everyone. (Sleeping Beauty's native american name. this is a good thing by the way - I've met some fun people and had many laughs thanks to Chats.) We met Mr. & Mrs. Rich Old Couple, Single Dad who is contemplating going back to school to teach, Acquaintance From the Lodge who practically ran right past us and Two Guys With Same Pace. If you've never hiked Mt. Hood, don't. If you do, you might as well go all the way to the top. There's no sense in going halfway. You're going to be knocking on death's door no matter how far you go, so why not have the best view possible while you're knocking?
So 2 pieces of bread, a Zone bar and half of a Chips Ahoy 100 calorie pack later, we had finished our approximately 1.5 mile hike. Water was consumed. Oxygen was inhaled and prayers of gratitude were expressed. As hard and horrible as it was hiking up, the worst was yet to come. Now was the part I'd been dreading since I heard the answer to my question: how do you get down? The answer was what I was about to do: just ski down. I'm sorry, just? I don't just ski down a mountain. Cats don't just swim and Ashlee Simpson doesn't just sing. These things are not natural and do not often happen unless the universe sails through a twilight zone or worm hole. Forgetting everything about the actual equipment and the actual act of snowplowing, I forgot to pack my pants, so this was already off to a horrible start. Not to mention the fact that an employee of the moutain was standing right there watching us. When confused about what to do first, Mr. I'm Super Good at Snowboarding told me nonchalantly to "just put on the boots & skis." Uh, I don't just do anything that comes to skiing. I don't even really remember how to put them on. I know my foot goes in the foot hole because it looks like a big boot and I know how to put my shoes on each morning but beyond that - I'm clueless.
With the boots on and left ski locked on, it came time for the right ski to be put on. I couldn't do it, fell on my butt and popped out of my left ski. That means I have to put the left one on again too. Great. Great start. Meanwhile, let me give you a picture of what's going on in the background on the actual run: a competitive ski group has been swishing by and going in between the red & blue gates and basically looking like Olympians in my eyes. If I get this snowplowing down, I'll be happy.
With all equipment attached correctly, poles in my hand and my bag on the back of Mr. Man With the Patience of Job, I headed down the mountain. and I fell. shocker. let me just give you the rundown of the next 5 minutes: crying behind my sunglasses, falling, trying my darndest to make sure Mr. I Have an Insane Amount of Patience doesn't see that I'm crying, more falling, verbalizing my timidity by saying "You have no idea how far out of my comfort zone I am!", falling, repeating my favorite phrase "ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh" (must be said in multiples of 3) and falling some more. Whether it was intentional or not, Mr. Amazing always let me get up by myself & start again.
I can't describe to you my intense dislike for just about everything during those first 5 minutes. Maybe if I had skied more than twice in my entire life, and if the last time wasn't more than 10 years ago and if I had left the bunny trail at least once during those 2 times I wouldn't have minded. But for someone with ego problems who thinks they have to be an expert at everything they do, this was very humbling. I disliked that stupid mountain, I was mad at myself for not being able to do it, disliked all the Olympians I had to share the mountain with, disliked the people on the chair lifts who were obviously staring at me, laughing and then talking about me the rest of the day, I disliked the sun for being way too bright, the elevation for giving me an insane headache and even Mr. Amazing for talking me into doing this ridiculous adventure. Oh, and did I mention the 6 year olds in racing gear that were swooshing by me at 200 mph? I was so terrified, at one point I think I actually started to pray I would pass out from altitude sickness. Then again, there was a lack of oxygen flowing to the brain, so I may be making that up.
Goal #1: snowplow straight down. Once I mastered this, I started going faster downhill which I wanted to avoid at all costs so I would turn right and stop myself. When Mr. I'm Still Amazing reminded me that I was only going 1 mph and everything was fine because he was literately right behind me, I reminded him that I had never been down something so steep before and it was fast to me. Now, I don't know if you've ever being sking but, the thing with ski runs is, they don't span the entire mountain. They have boundaries. So the snowplow straight/turn right plan worked for a while but sooner or later I was going to run into some barriers so I had to learn to turn left. I completely empathize with Derek Zoolander now. First attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. Luckily by now, I was most accomplished at getting back up. Second attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. I did eventually turn left without falling but I'm pretty sure I still screamed or made some noise that sounded like a swear word. It must have been a noise because I never swear except in traffic. But it may be justified because the Olympians were now taking their second pass down the mountain and threatening my life by flying past me at 90 mph several hundred feet away from where I was on my butt.
OK, so now I can snowplow straight, turn right and turn left. One more factor that I had to get down: the poles. Apparently I had been crossing them in front of me when I would turn. Apparently that's not what you're supposed to do. I'm not sure my brain is capable of thinking about skis AND poles at the same time, so I basically kept them dragging in the snow at all times. If I was about to fall, I'd forget about my snowplowing and dig my poles into the ground. I'm sure at this point I looked really awesome.
At this point I had convinced myself that hiking down would have been WAY faster. Maybe one of the elementary school-aged Olympians would mow me down and then I could just roll all the way down to the parking lot. Then I could sue for damages, buy my own mountain and never have to worry about anyone knocking me over again. Wait, that would imply that I would actually desire to go through this again. Yep, brain is definitely oxygen deficient.
With all of this chatter going on in my brain, somewhere along the way I had stopped crying and I was doing multiple passes before pausing and then I would remain upright when I was paused. Wait a sec, I may be able to do this. I don’t know when the switch flipped, but it did. I remained petrified and the family of butterflies living my stomach must have been [insert religion/culture that encourages big families] because they had been multiplying like crazy but I wasn’t falling down. Mr. I Have a Cute Snowboard Because it Has a Turtle on It But Don’t Call It Cute Because I’m a Dude could even board away from me, get a few airs and hopefully enjoy himself a little because I was alright on my own.
Yes I made it down to the parking lot and no, the snow didn’t melt and go through my clothes.
So, what do you do when you have to do something that you don’t want to do?
YOU DO IT!!!
3 comments:
Way to go! I am officially impressed! And have I mentioned before that you should write a book? Because you are HILARIOUS! Love it. Enjoy your vacation!
Walking down a snow covered mountain? You would have been walking and carying your skis and boots. That would have been..... Are you kidding?
That was tremendously funny!!! Funny to read, Funny to watch, just funny! You were a champ.
You forgot to mention that you were basically a pro by the end of the first run. no kidding.
I too was blessed that Mr. I-Can-Carry-Everything-For-You,-Just-Get Yourself-Up-The-Hill carried the gallons of water it took to climb down and back up the Kalaupapa trail on Moloka'i. It was the ONLY way I made it without calling LifeFlight (which has happened to other touristas). Four plus grueling hours. A great adventure.
Great job Laura. I had heard only experts ski Hood in the summer. Aren't you on a glacier?????
Love, Dee
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