At two hours, I pitied anyone who was on I-70 and not going skiing.
At three hours, I pitied myself even though I was going skiing.
The combination of up to 39 + inches of snow in the past 48 hours and cabin fever from a recent snow day led what seemed like the entire population of Denver to caravan down westbound I-70 at 6:00 AM on this particular Saturday.
The trip to Loveland Ski Area is usually an hour and a half of podcasts and anticipation, but on this day the journey took four and a half hours of listening to Phoebe Bridgers and rethinking my life.
The week had been a rough one, and I was just sure skiing was going to make it better. So far, not so good.
Ski Lesson #1: “Stay Bouncy”
I finally parked in the furthest lot and Loveland, bless them, let me join the ski lesson belatedly and helped me find my instructor, Monica. She and the other student in our class, Meghan, kindly skied down to meet me.
“This is really difficult snow today,” Monica warned on the lift up. “I fall maybe once every season and today I’ve already fallen four times. You’re going to have to stay really bouncy so that you don’t sink into the deep snow.”
As we skied down the first slope, we stopped multiple times so she could correct my form and give me helpful advice.
At one stop she told me, “Bend forward so you’re leaning at the hips and your shins are pressed in the front of your boots” and “keep your arms and belly button tight so you can turn without going up on your edges,” at another.
We skied to Lift 4 and decided to brave the windblown tundra at the top. “Ready? Here we go!” Monica took off gracefully down the slope and I headed down behind her.
Arms tight, core tight, shins forward, point downhill, turn uphill, WHAM. In all my form obsessing, I had forgotten to stay bouncy and now I was face first in a wall of snow.
Lost Skis, Bruised Ego
I sat up only to find that my skis were nowhere in sight. My ego, too, was nowhere to be found. “Oh no! Are you okay?” Meghan skied over to me.
I attempted to stand up, only to sink further into the snow pit I had created in my asteroid-like crash. I was now chest-deep in snow with no skis and little motivation to find them. I tried to climb out, but only broke the crust of snow and made my hole bigger. Every attempted step up only sunk me deeper. I leaned back on my Pit of Sadness, ready to cry.
There are moments of defeat, in skiing and in life, where you’ve reached the end of your wits. Your last nerve burned, the last straw pulled, you’ve pivoted until you’re dizzy and what to do next, though a defining moment, is completely unclear.
It’s a pit and you’re at the bottom and you have no choice but to get out. At that point, it’s not about the glorified persistence we see on motivational posters or fancy Pinterest quotes. You get out because you just… have to.
Lying there, skiless, cold snow melting down my spine and impossibly stuck in a hole, I was there. Literally and figuratively.
And then Meghan started laughing.
I must have looked ridiculous. Snow everywhere, goggles askew, stuck in a snow hole trying to clamber out, only to fall back in. Before I could stop it, I started laughing too. It wasn’t a rock-bottom crisis; I was okay. My bones weren’t broken, my skis were somewhere, and someone I had met only 30 minutes ago was offering me all the help she could give.
Using Meghan’s support and an awkward combination of rolling and climbing, I crawled my way out of the hole and onto the skis (that I had finally found by poking my tracks with my poles) and skied down to meet Monica.
Why Take Ski Lessons?
A few runs later, my skiing had already improved, and after several successful but exhausting runs, we decided to call it a day. I asked Monica why adults should take ski lessons.
“If you don’t take a ski lesson, you’re not going to have fun. People spend a ton of money on lift tickets and ride all the way up the lift only to realize they don’t know how to get down. People would never think of jumping into a deep pool or deep lake without knowing how to swim. Plus, it’s dangerous. Spend a little extra money and take a lesson so you don’t end up black and blue,” she advised.
I thought about how the day might have gone if I had not taken a lesson. I probably would have been frustrated, angry, and possibly actually injured, and I certainly wouldn’t have had as much fun.
Ski lessons earn you the type of fun you can take with you — ways to ski better on difficult days, ways to ski so that you aren’t as tired after four runs, and ways to ski so that you don’t get injured. Lessons can cure many ails.
Unfortunately, the only cure for traffic is an earlier wakeup call.
More From MacKennea
- Learning to Ski as an Adult, Lesson One: Fail Fast and Pivot
- Learning to Ski as an Adult, Lesson Two: Powder Day!
- Learning to Ski as an Adult, Lesson Three: Practice Makes Progress
- Time For A Ski Tune-Up? Probably, And Here’s Why
- Find Your Happy Place at Loveland Ski Area
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I skied that weekend and saw about 50 people at Copper in their own holes and it took the same efforts for them to free themselves from the clutches of a most unique Colorado snow.
What can I say? I found myself stuck that day under lift 5 at Vail. I stopped to catch my breath and the snow underneath me collapsed. Unhurt, but with my right arm pinned underneath me, my right ski caught in some branches sticking through the snow, I couldn’t move either. Luckily a skier and a snowboarder stopped to dig me out.This was after countless people yelled “get up” and “why are you lying down?” from the lift. 🙂