A Health Writer's Notebook

Some of you might think this is the most ridiculous thing ever. Because it kind of is. But despite growing up in the Okanagan Valley, home of some of the country’s best ski hills, somehow I managed to make it to 29-for-the-somethingth-time without ever having tried downhill skiing.

I also dislike winter. Could there be a connection?

But in an effort to find a use for snow and be a little more Canadian, I decided recently the time had come, and last month made my way to Silver Star Mountain Resort up the hill from Vernon, BC, also conveniently where some of my family happens to live. The resort was kind enough to host me and a special guest for a few days so I could (in theory) learn the ropes and enjoy some proper winter.

In theory.

I have kind of a bad habit of thinking of myself as brave and adventurous (I’m from BC, after all) in a lovely kind of denial right until I actually have to start trying something. Then I remember that new things can be scary, especially when they involve wearing slippery things that make you go fast down hills on your feet *on purpose*, and I freak out a little.

Day one wasn’t so bad, though I’m a slow and cautious learner. My amazingly patient instructor, Glenn, led me up and down the kiddie hill (I mean the one the toddlers learn on) and then to the bigger kiddie hill. After a few runs on that I felt somewhat confident that I could input instructions to the skis, but at his suggestion of going on a “real” ski hill (what, the bunny hill isn’t real?!) I got hyper nervous and decided to stay on the little hill some more. I really felt like I mastered that hill, and its moving sidewalk-like lift to the top.

On day two we were ready to conquer a real, honest-to-goodness, marked-on-the-map ski hill. So after a decadent breakfast at Bugaboo’s Cafe of melty Brie on a croissant (what? it had spinach too!) I got on my skis and discovered that my muscles and brain retained no memory whatsoever of the day before. Is this normal? In any case, I couldn’t stop or turn and didn’t particularly want to move forward, either. Glenn coaxed me back on the little kids’ hill and I managed to make my way down that a couple of times without bowling over the two-year-old playing red light green light with a hula hoop between her and the instructor. (I have to be honest, I really liked the look of that hula hoop.) Then all of a sudden we were on a chair lift and I was too distracted by the amazing view of the mountains on a sunny day to realize that we were going high, high up and would have to come down again.

Long story short, we came down slower than molasses as I snowplowed my way down a green run in panic and terror. I’ll spare the gory details, but it was a long, long morning, I spent a lot of time on my backside and my knees were killing me. And Glenn is a saint for not killing me. Lesson learned: If you feel like you’re not ready to move a step ahead, you might not be. I should have gone back to the bunny hill first. (Also, that’s a fake smile on my face in the photo.)

At dinner that night, we discovered that there is in fact a second-stage bunny-hill-like hill at Silver Star that’s labelled a green run but short, wide and forgiving. The next morning we made our way over there and my amazingly patient significant other helped me regain some of the first day’s confidence and then move beyond. I actually – miracle of miracles – made my way down the hill without stopping or falling, and with a smile on my face. And then, of course, we had to leave.

It turns out that skiing is kind of fun, once you’re able to stop and turn on command. It’s a very useful skill and if you’re learning how to ski for the first time, I do suggest mastering it before getting on a proper run. And I’m hoping to get in some more practice this winter so everything I learned isn’t lost forever.

Are you a skier? Any tips for me for next time?