Outside the Comfort Zone

I worry fairly easily, especially when the health of my bones is at stake. So in the days prior to leaving for Aspen, I felt more nervous than excited about the trip.

I had never skied before, not even on the bunny hills at Mount Kato, located about two hours east of where I grew up. The idea of riding a lift or gondola to the top of a mountain only to fly right back down on two waxed sticks made me ill.

Ben and I arrived in Snowmass, which is just outside of Aspen, on Dec. 11. We settled into our condo, which we shared with two other couples. That night we bought groceries, had dinner with friends and picked up our skis, poles and boots. By 10 p.m., I was ready to sleep. I faced a big day ahead.

I woke early the next morning to a nervous stomach. (Are you seeing a theme in this post? And no, I'm not preggers.) I had coffee and breakfast, got dressed, grabbed my equipment and off I went to the Elk Camp gondola, which would take me to my very first ski lesson.

A group of about five of us -- all with zero experience, some who had to borrow winter jackets -- began on the magic carpet. Imagine the people mover at the airport. That took us to the top of a small hill, where I learned the art of falling and getting back up gracefully. I feel, not so much out of clumsiness but because I "sacrificed" myself, as my instructor put it. We spent the morning on the magic carpet. After lunch, our group split up, some advancing to a green (me!) and others staying on the magic carpet.

Oh, the first lift ride. I'd be lying if I didn't write that my legs were shaking the entire time to the top. If you're afraid of heights, as I am, taking a lift is about as frightening, if not more, than skiing. But, once the ride was over, the lift thing was in the bag. Until the third day, when the lift took me down and I went splat, losing both skis and bruising my hip and knee.

We spent the afternoon practicing technique and doing various drills down the light green. My group was awesome. We laughed together and helped each other when we fell. We supported each other. By the end of the day, I was tired -- but satisfied. I had skied! I had plenty of bruises, but no broken bones, which I had feared.

At the end of day one, I found myself telling the instructor that skiing wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. Far too often, I let my imagination run wild. I turn hills into giant, scary mountains. But I've learned... mountains aren't so bad.