On Black Diamonds
When I moved back to Utah for graduate school I made the decision that if I was going to survive a few more years of Utah winters, I would need to embrace some winter activity other than hibernation. Lucky for me, I happened to be in the same program with two of the greatest ski instructors on this earth- Melissa, a teleskier, and Jessie, a snowboarder. Together we purchased our season passes to Sundance Resort and together we embarked on my very first ski lesson.
First of all I looked like a multi-colored marshmallow, dressed in soccer pants, beanie, and a puffy Old Navy coat all dating back from high school. With Jessie's skis and Melissa's poles I was set; a naive and hopelessly determined pupil. We got on the chairlift and the girls laughed when I began to pull the safety bar down (unbeknownst to me at the time, there is an unspoken rule among the experienced that one should never use the safety bar unless one is in preschool). We made it to the first stop on the lift and with only a little assistance I made it off the lift without incident. I say without incident, but that isn't entirely true. In my hurry to get off the lift before it carried me away to the top, I stuck my ski poles into the ground and the forward motion of the chair lift caused one pole to bend 6 inches from the bottom (sorry, Melissa, I still owe you for that).
When I tell people how I learned to ski, I explain that Melissa and Jessie took me to the top of the mountain and said, "okay, Rachel. Now ski down." How can I begin to describe the events that unfolded over the next two hours that it took me to get down that first run? How can I possibly paint the farcical picture that was me, arms flailing, body bent over trying to keep balance, squealing with one ski in the air as I spun around and belly flopped into the snow? Every few minutes I found myself in some variation of this position. About halfway down Melissa took my poles away because I was so out of control and needed to focus on the fundamentals. It was all I could do to stay on my feet, facing forward. In my defense I didn't know what a pizza wedge was. I had no idea what I was doing or what this was supposed to feel like. Eventually I made it down (though my dignity got stuck somewhere towards the top) and 5 years later I owe my winter happiness to those two girls.
I tell this story to help illustrate a lesson I recently learned. One day at work I overheard two guides discuss their favorite ski runs. The first explained that she doesn't like going on the black diamond runs because she feels too chaotic, and she likes to stay in control. The other responded, "but we go on the black diamonds so we can gain greater mastery on the easier runs." I didn't think much about what he had said until a couple days later as Joey and I sat on a lift to the top of the mountain. We've all got black diamonds in our lives- goodness knows I'm in the middle of a mercilessly long and bumpy one myself- where we feel like we have no control and we sometimes don't know how to react to our situation or to other people, even when they are trying to be helpful.
Only a couple weeks ago I related the details of my personal black diamond to a lady friend of mine, whom I will call enchilada soup lady (you know who you are!). She had been in my shoes (or my skis, so to speak) many years ago, and I confided that some days I feel like an emotional psycho as I try to navigate the sharp turns and steep hills of this most daunting adventure. She reassured me that no, I am not an emotional psycho and that one day I will feel normal again. What a relief!
The point here is not that those black diamonds will refine us and make us better people (although this is usually true, and a gazillion stories and quotes out there inspire that belief). The point here is that sometimes we just have to flail our arms, scream a little, lose our balance, and keep skiing down the hill any way we know how. Some days it's all we can do to get up in the morning, put one foot in front of the other, and face a new day with all the grace and dignity we can muster. Would we scold a toddler just learning to walk for falling down? Then why be so hard on ourselves as we are trying to navigate new terrain? It's unreasonable to expect perfection as we pass through the black diamonds of our lives, though that's certainly not an excuse to be careless and uncivilized. It is, however, an excuse to be a little easier on ourselves (and for goodness' sake on those around us), to allow ourselves an extra 5 minutes in bed, a double helping of ice cream, or a new pair of skis.
First of all I looked like a multi-colored marshmallow, dressed in soccer pants, beanie, and a puffy Old Navy coat all dating back from high school. With Jessie's skis and Melissa's poles I was set; a naive and hopelessly determined pupil. We got on the chairlift and the girls laughed when I began to pull the safety bar down (unbeknownst to me at the time, there is an unspoken rule among the experienced that one should never use the safety bar unless one is in preschool). We made it to the first stop on the lift and with only a little assistance I made it off the lift without incident. I say without incident, but that isn't entirely true. In my hurry to get off the lift before it carried me away to the top, I stuck my ski poles into the ground and the forward motion of the chair lift caused one pole to bend 6 inches from the bottom (sorry, Melissa, I still owe you for that).
When I tell people how I learned to ski, I explain that Melissa and Jessie took me to the top of the mountain and said, "okay, Rachel. Now ski down." How can I begin to describe the events that unfolded over the next two hours that it took me to get down that first run? How can I possibly paint the farcical picture that was me, arms flailing, body bent over trying to keep balance, squealing with one ski in the air as I spun around and belly flopped into the snow? Every few minutes I found myself in some variation of this position. About halfway down Melissa took my poles away because I was so out of control and needed to focus on the fundamentals. It was all I could do to stay on my feet, facing forward. In my defense I didn't know what a pizza wedge was. I had no idea what I was doing or what this was supposed to feel like. Eventually I made it down (though my dignity got stuck somewhere towards the top) and 5 years later I owe my winter happiness to those two girls.
 |
| Best Ski Buddies EVER! |
I tell this story to help illustrate a lesson I recently learned. One day at work I overheard two guides discuss their favorite ski runs. The first explained that she doesn't like going on the black diamond runs because she feels too chaotic, and she likes to stay in control. The other responded, "but we go on the black diamonds so we can gain greater mastery on the easier runs." I didn't think much about what he had said until a couple days later as Joey and I sat on a lift to the top of the mountain. We've all got black diamonds in our lives- goodness knows I'm in the middle of a mercilessly long and bumpy one myself- where we feel like we have no control and we sometimes don't know how to react to our situation or to other people, even when they are trying to be helpful.
Only a couple weeks ago I related the details of my personal black diamond to a lady friend of mine, whom I will call enchilada soup lady (you know who you are!). She had been in my shoes (or my skis, so to speak) many years ago, and I confided that some days I feel like an emotional psycho as I try to navigate the sharp turns and steep hills of this most daunting adventure. She reassured me that no, I am not an emotional psycho and that one day I will feel normal again. What a relief!
The point here is not that those black diamonds will refine us and make us better people (although this is usually true, and a gazillion stories and quotes out there inspire that belief). The point here is that sometimes we just have to flail our arms, scream a little, lose our balance, and keep skiing down the hill any way we know how. Some days it's all we can do to get up in the morning, put one foot in front of the other, and face a new day with all the grace and dignity we can muster. Would we scold a toddler just learning to walk for falling down? Then why be so hard on ourselves as we are trying to navigate new terrain? It's unreasonable to expect perfection as we pass through the black diamonds of our lives, though that's certainly not an excuse to be careless and uncivilized. It is, however, an excuse to be a little easier on ourselves (and for goodness' sake on those around us), to allow ourselves an extra 5 minutes in bed, a double helping of ice cream, or a new pair of skis.
Very well said, Rachel. I certainly have done my share of flailing and hope your black Diamond ends soon.... And another can take its place.
ReplyDeleteDo be kind to yourself and know someday you'll be giving lessons to another experiencing similar challenges.