Cool dudes dressed in baggy ski pants come cruising up to the lip.  “Are you going next?”  Somewhat terrified, I give a silent nod.  Everyone is grouped at the bottom peering up at me.  Ever the procrastinator, I have ended up being the last of my class to go.  Why did I think going last would be a good idea?  Now the pressure is on, and my biggest fear is I will eat it big time.  I raise my hand tentatively and mumble “dropping in” and away I go.  For the first time in my skiing life, I am in the halfpipe.

Things don’t seem so bad initially as I start out rather slowly, barely going up one side of the wall. I try to flatten my skis as I’ve been instructed to do to initiate the turn back to the other side.  Then the next turn up the other side, I’m going faster.  Turns out the side of the half pipe is really slick and rock hard ice and at speed it’s harder to get myself turned around without crashing.  The next turn, I am going even faster, seemingly without even trying.  If there was a way to magically eject myself out of the half pipe or stop altogether, I probably would have, but there is seemingly no way out except to finish my run.  Some of my more confident classmates actually have pulled off a jump towards the lip of the pipe, looking cooler than cool.  I’m just hoping I remain upright and will be able to pull up to my class in one piece.

Before I know it, the experience is over and I’m done.  I’m sort of relieved, but also excited.  Wow, I actually skied the half pipe!  Of all the adventures life has brought me living in the mountains of Colorado, skiing the half pipe was not one I had ever contemplated.  I thought that was reserved for the 20 year-old, super cool kids who competed in the X games.  But courtesy of a clinic I’ve taken as part of a ski lesson, our instructor thought it would be useful to teach us about turns.  And when you are part of a group, despite your enormous fears, who wants to admit you are too chicken to give it a try?

Like so many things that scare the crap out of you, after finishing, I’m contemplating that just maybe I could do it again, just a little bit better.  And when you are able to do something you thought was reserved for the young crowd, it makes you feel just a little less old, and little bit younger.  Who knows?  Maybe, just maybe next time I might even get up the courage to get some air.

 

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