I am, or at least I used to be, fairly athletic, but knew from the beginning that there would be a learning curve. What I didn't know was the amount of anxiety I would feel whenever I thought I might have to ski. I thought I was taking all the right steps, I took lessons, started on Dollar, wore a helmet. I just wasn't improving or having any fun.

One sunny winter day, my anxiety and I moved from Dollar over to Lower River Run, mostly to carpool and have a stiff drink to soothe my body and ego after being abused by Lower Riv (they only have beer and wine on Dollar, and that wasn't working). After a couple days of doing several laps below 42nd Street, one almost catastrophic trip to Seattle Ridge (think Clark Grizwald on a sled) and a couple of phone calls where I was asked to go skiing and my answer was to start crying, I decided that skiing wasn't for me. I briefly felt this zen moment where my Mountain Anxiety (I had named it, because it came up so much in conversation) melted away like the snow on a South facing slope. I was free to sit around and wait, wish and hope for spring.

A couple of weekends ago, I was asked if I wanted to go skiing and I didn't start crying. Confused, I said yes. I warned that I would have to take a lap on Lower Riv, to get a feel for how my body was going to act on that particular day. I felt pretty good so I decided to take my first run down College, a run that I'd gotten mixed reviews about, regarding it's do-ability for a beginner. I got a great pep talk on the ride up and I thought that I was as ready as I was ever going to be. We got to the top of the run, took in the amazing view, I took a deep breath and went for it. I was slow and made a million turns, but I made it down in one piece and with a smile on my face.