You chose the hobby. Planned for it. Paid for it. Started it.
So why is it that as soon as you start it, you just think to yourself (or maybe even out loud, depending on the circumstances), "What the heck was I thinking?"
My parents gave me an entire Cross Country Ski setup for Christmas. Which was awesome!
My mom and I had been discussing picking up a new winter hobby that still involved snow, but didn't involve the (more often than not) crowded slopes and all the prices that go along with it.
And well, let's just say that ice skating was out of the picture... I am truly the most unstable person on ice. When I'm walking, I can find a patch of ice the size of a small pancake and still find a way to almost break my tailbone. I blame it on my tall center of gravity, but I think it all has to do with my mental state and the fact that I get psyched out when I know ice is present (due to all the times it's been the source of my downfall.... literally. (Haha. Pun.)) Obviously I can't see myself when I have to walk across ice, but I'm sure my legs have about as much bend and flex in them as an iron rod.
Snowmobiling is something we've always wanted to get into (hasn't everyone?!). But the startup costs are kind of intimidating, and we've had our fair share of motorized sports and know that the constant maintenance is just a part of it. Something more simple would be nice.
Snowshoeing was a legit option, but although we aren't speed-demons, we still would like a little more movement than snowshoeing provides. Not so say I will never take up the sport, just not as of now.
Of course, the luge was not even an option... for so many reasons.
So we say, "Hm! How about Cross Country Skiing?!"
"Well gee! Yeah, that sounds like a great idea!"
And it was a great idea! Although I can assure you, I was not feeling that same enthusiasm on the first day of trying this new hobby.
Let me give you a quick background story here...
Growing up, all I have ever been on has been boards.
At the age of 2, I learned how to knee board behind a Nautique that created a wake that cleared my head.
Then, around age 4, I learned to wakeboard behind the same boat. Every weekend, my family + any and all of our friends were at the lake; camping, sitting around campfires, and riding behind amazing boats, listening to Blink 182, and pissing off the fisherman with our large wake. (Sorry). Those were some of the best days of my life, and before I was even a pre-teen! #blessed
We moved to Missouri when I was around 10 or so, I believe. There was no boarding here, instead we filled our time with kayaking the crystal clear rivers and going on geocache adventures.
Then, one destined year, we took a long road trip through the western mountainous region of the United States. As we drove through Colorado, I said with the naivety that youth provides, "Guys, I'm moving to Colorado someday. I hope you can join me." By the end of that year, my mom had made a job transfer and we were on our way to the Rockies. (Isn't my family seriously so cool?)
Before even settling into a house, we were ready to snowboard. We've always had our priorities straight: Fun before anything else... except maybe showers. (Cleanliness is next to fun-ness?) So there we were, an entire family (my 60+ year-old grandparents even learned one season), tearing up the slopes! Or at least the green runs, anyway.
Then, after a long while in Coloradical, we had a short stint back in Kansas. Here, my brother and I picked up the hobby of longboarding to make up for the lack of mountains in the state. That was fun. One summer, we would longboard for hours every day, and play Call of Duty all night. Good times.
So, then we came back to Colorado, and after being gone for a while, I came to appreciate everything about this state even more so than before! It's like the gray in Kansas made everything in Colorado so incredibly lucid. However, the slopes started to have less and less interest to me, not for any particular reason. I just needed something new. Something different. Something... less crowded.
Frisco, CO - December 19th, 2013:
I am standing in the snow, geared up and ready to go. I have a ski pole in each hand and I can't stop staring at my feet, straddling two separate skis. Emphasis on the "separate." I don't want to strap in. I know that when I do, my balance will be off, my speed will naturally want to increase, and my feet will not be strapped to the same object.
My feet will be on two separate fast-moving objects.
My desire to pick up my skis, go back to the car, and get a coffee on the drive home is so incredibly overwhelming. What the heck was I thinking when I said I actually wanted to do this?
"C'mon, Dailyn," I say to myself, "you'll never get that much speed, and you can always just fall. Falling isn't so bad."
I already knew all of this, but when you get psyched out, you get psyched out. There's no stopping your mind from doing what it does, which in my case, is over-thinking... everything.
What really gets me is when I look over and see my older, arthritic-handed, stitches on her forehead mother strapping in with no doubt. "Well, shite. I can't go looking like a bigger wimp than my mom!"
We both strap in and just get straight to it. After a few almost-split situations, and a good wipeout into a tree from my mom, we are loving it. Already addicted. Already ready for more!... Agh my thighs! Okay, maybe we'll do more skiing on another day...
I mean, dude, talk about a workout.
I'm constantly trying to tell myself not to overthink things, just do it! And I'm always so stoked when I do.
Here's to new adventures!
No matter how fast or slow, or how many objects you have to strap your feet to.
Aloha ke akua.
- Dai
No comments:
Post a Comment