The Life of Me: Collector's Edition

Epiphany on the mountain.

I have discovered the art of snowboarding. And it is fun.

I just got back from a place called Mammoth Lakes located in the eastern Sierra Nevada mountain range in the beautiful state of California, where the snow season is still going strong.

Words can’t describe how beautiful I found the place to be. I had seen plenty of snow before when I used to work in Nebraska, but that was nothing compared to the sheer majesty of the white-capped mountains that I had hitherto experienced only from afar. The views were even more impressive close-up; it was then that I was forced to respect Mother Nature—but then, isn’t she always more intimidating up close? When I first got on the lift leading up to the top of the “weak-sauce” green slope (as my buddy Ed called it…it was in fact, the bunny slope), I got a bit nervous because the lift kept going…and going. To my inexperienced eyes, the green slope was rather steep. It was like something out of SSX 3. To summarize my very first experience snowboarding, here’s a timeline that starts after I get out of the Mammoth Lodge on our first day out:

- Got in line for the lift. Propelled snowboard while in line with one foot attached. Imagine skateboarding, only with one foot glued onto said board at an uncomfortable angle. Predictably poor board control. Bumped into mothers and their small children.
- Slid onto lift. Surprisingly easy.
- Lift slowly propels me to top of slope. Wonderment and appreciation mixed with sense of foreboding and dread.
- I try to disembark from the lift, only to fall on my ass. I had to duck under the chair as it passed above my crumpled form.
- Clumsily made my way over to the beginning of the slope. Strapped on remaining free boot.
- Slid down slope 10 feet. Fell on ass. Slid down another 10 feet. Fell on ass. Repeat for 50 minutes. All the way down slope. Aforementioned mothers and young children, combined with attractive female snowboarders, pass me by. At least twice.

All my experienced boarding friends warned me that the first day would be demoralizing. And it was. My wrists hurt, my neck hurt because I landed on my face a couple of times, my calves ached, and my ass was in the most pain. I only got in three runs that day. After getting up so many times after crashing so hard, I had not the heart or the energy to continue.

The next day was a different story: I took a group lesson with other adults that were similarly experienced and really began to get the hang of things. Toe-side, heel-side, the flex/torsion technique, catching the edge, S-curves…all that stuff we learned in the span of three hours. I lost count after my seventh run down the beginner slope, but the difference was night and day; I barely fell after my lesson, and there was zero huffing and puffing on my part. My perception of everything while on the slopes was very elemental: me, my board, and the mountain. It was Zen-like. I loved it.

Must get to Colorado.

posted by anthony fuego @ 9:39 PM