Last week I finally bit the bullet and invested in a new pair of skis. I got a screaming, screaming deal to replace my old skis, which were nine years old. My husband had won them for me at during the Ski/Golf tournament, where you race on Big Mountain and then golf nine holes. I was on bed rest, thirty-five weeks or so pregnant with our son, and he came home triumphantly hauling a brand new shiny pair of K-2s. Shaped skis to replace my very old Black Diamond tele skis. I also skied on leather tele boots until it was just ridiculous. Do you notice a pattern here?
My new skis are fat, and they are short. I marveled at them, because it is noteworthy for me to actually replace my ski gear. The nice tech told me I could use my old skis for the fence post or maybe sell them for enough to get a six-pack of beer. He also warned me that these fat new skis might have the best of me initially.
On Thursday, it snowed five inches up on the mountain. I was a little bit reluctant to put my daughter in daycare, and I was also thinking that this was a lot of ski for me, but I could not resist the pull of the hill.
At first I felt pretty good. Then I headed down the Face, which was full of fresh, relatively heavy snow, and that is where the ‘fun’ began. These new skis turned on a dime. I was so used to digging in with my edges that every time I made a tele turn, I was almost pointing
uphill again or did manage to turn in a full circle. I fell a lot, a lot of legitimate ‘learning curve’ falls, and a lot of just plain dumb falls. I was glad it was foggy, so that I was hidden from view, and I felt humbled by my new gear. I definitely did not feel in control of my new skis; they were controlling me.
This morning, our whole family headed up the hill. Two of our kids take ski lessons while the youngest goes to daycare for a few hours, and my husband and I score a ski date. I was a little bit nervous about skiing firm snow on my new skis since I had kind of been a wreck of a person in powder. But every run I took got better. My husband had some great pointers. And, after all, we were skiing in the bright sunshine, which is always a good thing. By the end of our two hours, I was in love with my short, fat skis.
Lately I have been noticing myself climbing out of a pretty serious rut. I am trying to make some small as well as more dramatic changes, because I need to. Whether it means changing my teaching, starting a blog, or finally replacing my antiquated ski gear, it is exactly what I need.